


How Did We Get Here?

by Until_Requiem



Category: One Piece, RWBY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Until_Requiem/pseuds/Until_Requiem
Summary: When Tukson found the behemoth of a man crumpled in a back alley, he was at a loss for words. From his strange appearance, to his strange weapons, to his strange behaviours, everything about the stranger was, well... strange. Little did anyone know of the earth-shaking force that had been unleashed unto Remnant.The first few chapters are hot garbage and will be rewritten at the end of the Beacon Arc.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue: How Did We Get Here?

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi all! This fic was first posted by myself to FF, but after some deliberation, I decided to cross-post it here! The first few chapters (I would say the first four) are pretty bad and will be rewritten at the end of the Beacon arc.  
> Also, I know that the prologue doesn't make sense, but it was written before the end of the Dressrosa arc, and (again) will be re-written at the end of the Beacon Arc.  
> For those of you wondering, Ain is from One Piece: Z, and Pendrag is from a fanon of One Piece, One Piece: Ship of Fools, a 7-episode series.

Admiral Fujitora of the Marines was taking a very well-deserved nap. After the events of Dressrosa, Fleet Admiral Sakazuki had been generous enough to allow him a vacation. Of course the stingy hardhead couldn’t be bothered to write it off so Issho’s already-strained wallet wouldn’t get any lighter, so the five-star resort was coming from his own pocket. Fantastic. Of course said five-star resort just so happened to come under attack by some random nobody-crew. Of course said nobody-crew HAD to try and ruin Issho’s gambling. What was he supposed to do, let them walk? He may be a forgiving man, but that doesn’t mean he would allow those that terrorized the innocent to leave his sight. Not without them being clapped in irons first anyways. 

“Admiral!”

Yes, his nap was going very well so far.

“Admiral Fujitora!”

But of course the universe couldn’t give him a break. He wasn’t a young man anymore, he needed his beauty rest.

“ADMIRAL!”

With a breathy sigh, Issho rose to his feet. Slipping on his favourite pair of Geta, he crossed his quarters in three long strides and opened the door. He “saw” the young Lieutenant, standing at abdomen height, take a step back at his sudden towering appearance.

“Admiral Fujitora, sir, we’ve just received word that one of the ‘Worst Generation’, Trafalgar Law, has teamed up with Pendrag Artur of the Jinchuriki! They’re just a few islands away, and the Fleet Admiral has ordered us to head out and intercept them. I was told that you would like to know beforehand,” the nervous man said.

Just perfect. He knew for sure now, the universe was laughing uproariously at him. Probably watching with glee, too, busy plotting ways to heighten his misery.

With another sigh, he gathered his thoughts and started formulating plans.

“Nothing good can come from those two working together. Send a message to the Fleet Admiral telling him we’re on our way, but would appreciate reinforcements,” Issho responded.

With a few more strides, he was at the bottom of the stairs to the bridge. The rolling of the ship across the waves gave him little pause. With one more deep inhale (he would vehemently deny that this was a yawn), he clicked and clacked his way to the top of the stairs. He felt the officer manning the helm turn to greet him. The man bellowed out an “Admiral on deck!” to the officers within earshot, before returning his attention to the Admiral standing just near him.

“Commander, I was told that our course has been changed. To which Island do I have the… distinct pleasure of chasing these pirates to?” Issho asked.

“Their last sighting was at Lehnsherr Island, but they may have moved since then,” the helmsman said. “What with its strange magnetic properties, we need to be careful of things like our weapons changing weights in battle, and bullets changing trajectories mid-flight, among other things. Whitebeard used to have a lab on the island dedicated to discovering the effect of these fields on Devil Fruits,” explained the helmsman.

“Does Haki have any influence on these fields? If I were to imbue my weapon with Armament Haki, would it reduce or nullify the effect?” Issho wondered aloud.

“Unfortunately, sir,” the man replied, “It is unknown. We will have to find out when we get there”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Evidently so!” Issho thought while dodging a swing from Pendrag Artur. “Would have been nice to test it before combat, but noooooooo, we ‘had to apprehend them IMMEDIATELY!’ by Sakazuki’s orders”

Artur’s devil fruit, the Doru Doru no Mi, allowed him to teleport anywhere with anything or anyone he touched. A perfect power to compliment the power of Trafalgar Law, who could control his “Operating Room” at will with the power of his own, formidable fruit, the Ope Ope no Mi. Blocking an overhand swing from Law, he dropped below a follow-up from Artur, who had just teleported behind him. Evidently, those Magnetic Fields didn’t affect Artur and Law. But why not?

He would be fighting blind, if not for the power of his Observation Haki. Issho disliked relying upon his Haki, prefering to utilize his devil fruit to observe the world around him. His range was limited, but he was holding his own. He wasn’t an admiral for nothing.

“Give it up, Fujitora!” Artur snarled. “You can’t beat us here, and your reinforcements will come too late!”

“Please, Issho. We helped each other on Dressrosa! Why do you oppose us now?!” Law shouted.

“I fight because I must, Law. I do not wish to oppose you, but I cannot let you walk away. And you, Artur, you are wanted for your crimes. I cannot allow a member of the Jinchuriki to leave! You are wanted for more crimes than I can list. You will come with me!” Issho roared back. “The Jinchuriki cannot be allowed to do more damage than they already have!”

Artur faltered for just a brief second, but it was enough for Issho to land a kick to his sternum, knocking him back and briefly winding him.

“Artur, go! You know the plan!” Law shouted, jumping in to cross blades with Issho once again. Issho faltered, falling back. “A plan? That doesn’t bode well,” Issho thought. He would have thought more, but a flicker behind him signalled the return of Artur. Unusually, he had one more, someone that Issho had yet to meet. 

Immediately on guard, Issho caught both Law and Artur’s blades on his own, before shoving back and creating space. He felt the new person circle around behind him, searching for an opening. He couldn’t have that, now could he? Feigning a strike at Law before jumping back and spinning around, he struck at the newcomer and heard a distinctly feminine yelp as they dropped beneath his blade. He could swear he recognized that Haki signature, but before he could wrack his memory for who it might be, Artur teleported next to him while Law charged in for a three pronged attack.

“This is bad” raced through Fujitora’s mind as he spun back to desperately catch Law’s blade on his own. Twisting away from a sideways jab from Pendrag, he locked his blade’s crossguard on Law’s, twisting downwards in an attempt to disarm him. “Not that disarming him is any good, he can just summon it back to him with the Ope Ope no Mi. Still, any break is a good break.” The new adversary jumped in, and Issho caught not one, but two daggers on the hilt of his sword while simultaneously swinging down to attack Law.  
“Two daggers?” Issho thought, striking with the heel of his palm at Pendrag, who barely avoided it. “Not only that, but her movements; they belong to the training of Z”. 

Issho had never been very close with Z, a former admiral on the level of Garp the Fist and “Great Staff Officer” Tsuru, but from the few spars he had with the man, his unorthodox fighting style was dangerous but effective. That narrowed his attackers identity down to just two people, after the massacre of Z’s cadets. Either Ain or Binz, and from the feminine yelp earlier, this was Ain, wielder of the Modo Modo no Mi. 

“A student of Z, and the wielder of the Modo Modo no Mi; it produces energy that reverts the state of anyone or anything by twelve years if touched”

Issho repelled one dagger with his sword, before spinning around and striking at Law. When his sword was caught on Law’s once again, Issho slid his sword forwards, closing distance. With a heavy shove, Law was sent skidding back as Issho caught Pendrag with his free hand as the man tried to Teleport inside his guard. With one swift twist, Issho spun and flung Artur over his shoulder in a lesser-known Marine Grappling technique. 

Sensing one dagger flying towards him, Issho batted it out of the air with his sword before leaping away from Ain to create space and keep all three within his sword’s effective angle. He felt the dagger on the ground twitch, then disappear to drop into Ain’s hand. The work of Law, no doubt.

Thoughts raced through his mind as he formulated a plan. “Three on one, and with no reinforcements coming before they defeat me. It’s difficult to fight teleporting opponents. There is no way to outmaneuver all three while also defending myself- not without my devil fruit.” Issho swore under his breath as he sensed the three pirates cluster, before two split to the sides to try and flank him again. Exhaling heavily, Issho readied himself for yet another clash. 

With a flicker of power, Issho ducked under a swipe from Ain as Law moved her to be just above him, then struck at her and brought his sword to bear as Pendrag teleported next to him, intent on stabbing his side. Weaving backwards and under a return attack from Ain, Issho caught Law’s blade for a third time on his own as he stepped back to avoid Pendrag’s sword falling into where his legs were just a moment ago. 

Feeling another pulse of power, Fujitora ducked a projectile from Ain’s devil fruit. Suddenly feeling his body become younger would certainly invite defeat. “So they’ve all started using their devil fruits.” Issho realized. “I will hold out for as long as I can, but those reinforcements better move quickly.”

Ain finally spoke for the first time. “I do not want to fight you, Fujitora! Z always spoke highly of you, respecting your sense of justice and worth as a person. Stand down!” She shouted across the battlefield. 

“You know full well why I cannot do that, Ain. I do not wish to fight, but I cannot let you leave. My respect for Z was great, but his doctrine of killing all lawbreakers on sight has dulled my admiration! I cannot allow members of his crew to continue to roam free.” Issho replied. 

“Then we must remove you, permanently!” Ain cried, before addressing the other two pirates. “Law, Artur! Let’s do it!”

Pendrag instantly changed tactics, moving with much more ferocity and freedom of use with his devil fruit. “Gladly!” He told Ain.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Law, however, hesitated. If only for a brief moment, he remembered Fujitora’s help on Dressrosa, and it stayed his blade for an infinitesimal, crucial second. While Pendrag teleported to nearly on top of Issho, Law made up his mind, and decided to not kill, but remove Fujitora from life forever. It was better than death, anyways. 

His mind made up, Law “grabbed” the projectile Ain produced with his power, moving it to nearly touching Fujitora’s back. As he did, Law sliced downwards, extending his power from the edge of his sword in a blade racing towards Fujitora. Just as the Admiral turned to block the attack, Law released the projectile of Ain’s design, allowing it to strike Fujitora as he also reached out with his power to move the man. To where, to when was unimportant; all that mattered was that Fujitora would live- albeit where he could not interfere with their plan anymore. They could not allow themselves to be stopped here, so close to their goal.

And as he moved the Admiral, Pendrag also teleported him, trusting in Law to remove him. That would be Artur’s mistake.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-


	2. Chapter 1 - The Awakening

The kingdom of Vale was one that never truly slept. From car horns to footsteps, muted conversations to dealings in dark alleys, or the bustle of people that were simply returning home after a long day at work, Vale was always busy. There were places, indeed, that were quiet, away from prying eyes and ears. These places, however, were few and far between. Usually, such a place would be avoided like the plague, but for one dark-haired, intrepid bookstore owner, these dark and silent areas were havens. He was no stranger to dealings in the dark, blood spilled over a claw where no one could see, and meetings with cloaked figures, their faces obscured by shadows. This bookstore owner’s name was Tukson, and he was returning home after a day working at Tukson’s Book Trade, his personal shop that he created after fleeing from the White Fang. As a Faunus, he possessed superior night vision. Nothing in these shady crevasses could escape his gaze, which is why he came up short when he caught the sight of a human crumpled in a corner, breathing shallow. Tukson’s thoughts of dinner and sleep vanished immediately, old training springing to the forefront of his mind (against his better judgement, mind) as he tensed, prepared for anything. Only a very foolish man would fall asleep here, in the middle of the back alleys of the Commercial District. 

“Hello?” Tukson called, wary of the human. When no response was forthcoming, he began inching closer, still tense. As he began moving, he slid a penknife from his back pocket. Sure, he had claws, but that was so much more personal than a weapon, not to mention his bad memories of using them as weapons.

“Sir? Are you okay?” He asked. When the man (for it was a man) still didn’t respond, Tukson took a moment to compose himself. “If this was a trap of some kind, something would have happened by now, right?” Tukson thought to himself, warily staring at his surroundings. With a quick glance at the rooftops for any unsavories, he knelt near the man. And by the gods, the man was huge. Even slouched over, head to one side, clutching a straight cane in the crook of his elbow, the man must have been eight feet tall! What veggies did this guy eat? With one last inquiry, (“Are you awake, sir?”) Tukson shrugged, pocketed his knife, and prodded at the man’s cheek. Aside from a larger-than-normal exhale, a twitch of the cheek, and a roll of the head, the man stayed unconscious. Tukson sighed, estimating how much the man weighed. If he was going to be a good samaritan, he would rather not pull out his back trying to move the man. He was easily over two hundred fifty pounds. Not the easiest weight in the world, especially to move over a long distance, but Tukson was used to lifting boxes of books onto tall storage shelves. “I’ll just take it slow, and I’ll be fine… I hope.” With that dreary thought, Tukson grabbed the man’s cane, shoved it into his belt, then grabbed the man’s arms, pulled them over his neck, then heaved up to bear the stranger’s weight on his back. And by the moon was it a weight and a half. Tukson’s original estimate of his weight was an undershot by at least twenty pounds. 

“Gods, what did you eat, an Ursa?” Tukson panted out, before staggering his way towards home. “Just one foot in front of the other, Tukson… one foot in front of the other,” He thought, raising his eyes to the exit of the alley. With one last sigh, he began moving towards home.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The seconds turned to minutes, the minutes to hours, the hours to days. Okay, in all actuality it was only fifteen minutes, but Tukson didn’t feel that way. He staggered up to his apartment (Thank the gods it was on the first floor), unlocked the door with his scroll, walked ten steps in, then just about fell over, dropping the man on his couch on the way to the floor. Sweat dripped from his face into his beard. Upon closer inspection, Tukson was drenched in sweat.

“Perfect. Another shower it is then,” Tukson whimpered out, before struggling to his feet so he could stagger his way to his blissful, hot shower. Before he went, he took the time to organize the stranger’s limbs, which were splayed all over (as limp bodies tend to do, and no, do NOT ask how he has experience with that). When the stranger’s body was in a suitable orientation and all his limbs were (mostly) on the couch, Tukson took it as a sign that he was finally able to shower. As he turned to leave, however, he took a closer look at the man. Putting aside the matter of his cane, which Tukson propped near the man’s feet, there were still the scars. And sweet dust they went over both his eyes. What manner of beast was able to not only reach up that high, but slash with enough force to create scars that large? Perhaps an Ursa, but Tukson certainly didn’t want to find out, and with any luck, he would never have to. Just as Tukson took a single step towards his beautiful shower, the man stirred, before hacking a dry cough that made Tukson’s chest ache in sympathy, before he stilled once more. “Dust, I never checked him for injuries!” Tukson shouted in his head, before scrambling to give the man a once-over.

When all was said and done, however, Tukson’s heart rate was relieved to see few injuries. A few scrapes on his back (which makes sense, the man was laying in a dirty alley), the aforementioned scars over the eyes, and a mild case of dehydration was all of it. The scrapes were minor, not even drawing blood, and didn’t need treatment. Unless the alley floor gave the man some sort of disease, which was entirely possible, now that Tukson thought of it. The scars were long since healed, and the dehydration couldn’t be fixed till he woke up. His mind settled, Tukson finally staggered into his bathroom to take a shower. He earned this, damn it!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was a day and a half before the stranger woke up. Tukson had decided to stay home for that time instead of leaving the man alone in his apartment. It had crossed his mind before to take the man to a hospital, but he eventually decided against it, as the stranger had no complications aside from the whole… unconsciousness… -ness. On the plus side, Tukson wasn’t the most social of individuals on a good day, so no one dropped by to ask why his shop hadn’t been open. But when the man did awaken, there were problems aplenty that both Tukson and the stranger would have to puzzle out together. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Consciousness returned to Issho slowly, like light streaming through a curtain. Not that Issho even remembered what that looked like anymore, but that was just semantics. Slowly, his awareness returned. His Devil Fruit awareness painted a vivid picture of the room around him. 

He was laying on a couch, with what seemed to be a table in front of him, a window on the wall beyond that, a table with a single, solitary chair beyond his feet, and a side table near his head. Beyond that, there was a small table in the corner with a lonely plant. “Poor placement, there’s no light for the plant,” wandered through the back of his head. Then, with a jolt, he remembered the last thing he was doing. “A fight. And it would appear I lost,” Issho thought. “But why am I here, and not dead? I would think that any one of them would be more than happy to take my life. Or the life of any marine in general.” It was then that Issho heard a clatter in the next room. Along with said clatter came an exclamation. 

“Dammit!”

What an eloquent message, really spoke to the soul.

“Are you okay?” Issho attempted to say. What really came out was more of a hacking cough as he realized that his throat was as dry as Alabastian sand. He sat up, pounding his chest as he attempted to clear his throat. The man in the other room froze, then just about sprinted into the room Issho was in. 

“You’re awake!” The man exclaimed, fussing about as he grabbed the solitary chair from the lonely table. Dragging it over, he plopped it down on the other side of the table in front of Issho, before telling him “Wait right here! I’ll go grab you some water.” While the man walked into the kitchen and began filling a glass for Issho, the man in question swung his legs to the ground, grabbed his cane (which was really a sword but if his saviour didn’t recognize it then there was no reason to point it out) to rest between his legs with the handle (or top, really) beside his head. Both his hands were folded around the shaft midway up the sheath. 

“It might be just a bit warm, but here you go!” Issho’s host said, handing him a glass of water. While the admiral nursed his dry throat, the other man took a seat across the table from him. Issho could sense the man’s head was turned towards him, most likely staring at him. For a while, they simply sat, to all appearances waiting for Issho’s throat to recover slightly. In all reality, the Admiral was plotting, his mind awhirl with decisions to be made and stories to tell. If the man hadn’t recognized him by appearance alone, there was a chance he was on an island that wasn’t controlled by the Marines. Better to stay anonymous for as long as possible while he returned to the nearest Marine outpost.

“Are you feeling any better? You’ve been out for a few days,” The man asked.

“Much, thank you,” Issho replied. “Are you the one that saved me? If so I’d like to thank you personally.”

“Indeed I am,” replied the man. “I found you unconscious in a back alley about ten minutes from here. What happened? Why were you there in the first place?”

“Before that, could I ask your name?” Fujitora asked. “It would be odd for me to just address you as ‘the man who saved me’ forever”

With a chuckle, the man responded.

“My name is Tukson. What about you? I don’t want to address you as ‘that guy I found crumpled in the back alley’ until you eventually tell me of your own volition”

With a grin, the blind man responded with his real name, not his admiral moniker. Even in non-Marine controlled islands, the name ‘Fujitora’ was too recognizable 

“My name is Issho. Thank you for taking me in and caring for me while I was unconscious. I am sure that many would not be so quick to help a stranger, even if they were in need.”

“Issho, huh? Odd name, you come from Vacuo? Names like that don’t usually pop up in Vale.” Tukson said.

Thoughts whirled through the large man’s mind, searching the deepest crevasses of his mind for names of islands and towns. “Vacuo? He didn’t call it Vacuo island though, and when he mentioned Vale before, he also didn’t mention if it was an island either. Perhaps villages? Most islands aren’t large enough to support two independent villages though. Best to clarify…”

With that thought, the Admiral began probing, desiring answers from his strange saviour.

“Vale? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that name. Is it the name of the island or the civilization? I’m… not from around here, as you may have guessed,” Issho said, trying desperately to remain neutral in his questioning.

If the estranged Admiral could have seen, he would have noticed the one raised eyebrow and strange look that Tukson levelled at him. Luckily (Or unluckily, depending on how you look at it), Fujitora could hear the tone change as Tukson’s voice became incredulous.

“Island? That’s a rather broad term for the continent that is Sanus, but both Vale and Vacuo are Kingdoms that share the space. As for the name of the civilizations, both Kingdoms’ capitals are named after the Kingdom itself. What rock have you been living under that you don’t know that?” Tukson asked, bewildered.

A single thought raced through Issho’s head at this point.

“Fuck”

On the surface, however, the blind man’s face hadn’t moved so much as a muscle. He was too professional to utter baseless curses. Thank god for the Cipher Pol training that he had been brutally generously subjected to been taught, as an up-and-coming admiral under Sakazuki’s rule.

“Continent? I’m not sure I’ve heard that term before. Does it refer to a large island? Or something else entirely?” Issho asked innocently.

Tukson’s eyebrow threatened to secede from his face into his hairline at this point. 

“Never heard the term ‘Continent’? You sure you didn’t hit your head on the way to the alley floor?” Tukson was absolutely gobsmacked. Sure, maybe, just maybe, he could forgive not knowing Vale or Vacuo; after all, some rich kids are sheltered, but even they learn basic geography. And that besides, this man was easily thirty five. There should be no reason in the world (unless the man grew up in the Badlands) for him to not know of Vale, Vacuo, or the word ‘Continent’.

A second thought raced through Issho’s head at this point.

“Double fuck”

Again, he was too professional to utter such a thing aloud.

Thinking quickly, Issho took a drink to stall for time and fabricated a backstory; he was a merchant that lived in Sabaody, he was sailing to sell his wares in the North Blue, and he was attacked by pirates and presumably dumped on land somewhere to be either found or die. That seemed solid, though the term ‘Continent’ threw his aim slightly askew. He would have to modify it as more information became available though.

“Could you tell me, then, how far from the Grand Line I am? Or even which Blue I’m in?”

Tukson’s other eyebrow now joined the first. 

“Grand Line? Blue? Never heard those terms, but if you’re talking about the ocean, we’re currently about halfway between the Sea of Souls and the Vytal sea.”

Here, one final thought came thundering into Issho’s mind, like a Sea King after a meal.

“Where the hell am I?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After two days of deception, trickery, bamboozling, and all-out hoodwinking, Issho managed to string together a (fairly) decent backstory. He was now Issho Ramierez, currently from Vacuo, who grew up on a small archipelago of islands inside Nomad Bay. The islanders were mainly autonomous, and kept to themselves. They traded almost exclusively with a small port town in Vacuo (brilliantly named Lehnsherr Port), which was where Issho was ambushed on his first expedition off the archipelago. 

Unbeknownst to Issho, Tukson had decided to look into his backstory, and very quickly discovered that Lehnsherr Port did not, in fact, exist, and that the archipelago of islands was not, funnily enough, inhabited. While Tukson didn’t exactly trust the man, he understood that there were reasons to not want one’s background to come to light. Sometimes, those skeletons in the closet turned out to be not-quite-dead when you least expected it.

In any case, Issho had insisted on repaying Tukson, but he quickly realized that he had no currency. His wallet was safe and sound in his quarters on his battleship (also known as: unreachable). Besides that fact, he had no Lien, only Berris. Issho had decided to work to repay the man, but Tukson had insisted on not letting the blind man walk around in a crime-ridden city that he was unfamiliar with. Tukson instead proposed that the man work at his own Bookstore. Issho had assured Tukson that he was physically capable (aside from the obvious disability). 

With that declaration, Tukson’s book trade had its first employee (that wasn’t the owner). On the third day of Issho’s tranZit to Remnant, Tukson’s book trade opened its doors with two people behind the counter. (And wasn’t that ironic, a blind man working at a bookstore.)

Guess it was a good thing, then, that Issho was just moving stacks of books around in the back.

Little did either of them know of the storm that Remnant (and especially Vale) would be experiencing in the following days. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Mercury crept up behind the blind man, still fussing over a bleeding Tukson, raising his leg for a swift strike to the back of the neck. Just as he began to swing, both Mercury and Emerald froze, feeling a change in the air. The man’s demeanor had swapped like night and day, from an oblivious blind fool to that of a beast poised to strike.

“There’s your first mistake, boy. Don’t assume that the way someone acts is indicative of their abilities.” With that ominous statement, the man rose and turned, towering over the still-frozen Mercury, one hand on his cane. “I hope you’re ready to reap what you’ve sown”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello all! Thanks so much for coming back to my story! I’m sorry I’m baed at dialogue :( Can never seem to convey my thoughts very well when talking, especially when conforming to a character that I can’t make too OOC. Just a quick note regarding the subject of my first review (Thanks to the anonymous Guest for being my first review btw). I realize that the premise of the story for Fujitora’s insertion to Remnant is absurd. I know that it is utterly infeasible to have a Supernova of the Worst Generation, a Jinchuriki, and a member of the Z Pirates to form an alliance. They have no common ground and for the most part hate each other. The only reason I chose these three is because I needed their specific Devil Fruit powers and I didn’t want to introduce an OC with a super OP Fruit just for the purpose of getting Issho from One Piece to RWBY, then never mention them agian. I also didn’t want to deal with any deities as some RWBY X-Overs do -- a large portion of Ozpin’s and Salem’s characters is that the gods have abandoned Remnant. With that said, I also realize I could have done without Ain, but I felt as though having Fujitora de-age would help him relate to the majority of characters in RWBY more easily. Also, even with how powerful Law and Pendrag are, going up against an Admiral 2v1 is crazy difficult. I’m not sure I could have realistically written a situation where Fujitora lost that fight. Going back to why I included Ain, with the exception of Ozpin, Issho would be the oldest in the story. A large part of RWBY’s plot is the bonds that people form, and I think we can agree that forming meaningful bonds (especially like the ones between friends) is difficult when there is a large age gap between people. 
> 
> I also realize that (in regards to this chapter), it is infeasible for Issho to speak English as the characters in RWBY do. To be frank, writing in the learning of an entirely new language barrier in addition to the cultural and technological differences between the two worlds is difficult. I also have no experience with learning languages and don’t want to be shooting in the dark. Thanks everyone for understanding that!
> 
> Also, I realized I skipped the majority of Issho learning about his new world. However, I want to point out that I am not very good at this. I do not think I could do justice (hah, Issho and Justice) to Fujitora’s revelations about his predicament. I wanted to take inspiration from “The Blue Pheasant Flies On” (great story btw) but didn’t feel as if I could without it being a straight copy-paste. Rest assured that there will still be revelations aplenty in the coming chapters, as the only thing that Issho will have sensed by his first day at work is cars, which are already feasible in the OP universe. Kind of. Thanks again everyone for understanding!
> 
> Sidenote, in case you were thinking I pulled Issho’s weight out of my ass, I didn’t. I went through fifteen different height/weight ratio sites, figuring out the average height/weight factor, then scaled it up for Issho’s canon height (8’10”/270cm). Do you know how motivated I was to do MATH during quarantine, during my supposed break?? 
> 
> Second sidenote, It’s currently 12:19 am on the day that this chapter releases, and I’m cobbling together the latter part of this chapter while hyped on music and my Co-Author’s suggestions. Let me know if you can tell where my cobbling begins.
> 
> Anyways thanks again for returning to this story (Or welcome, if it’s your first time). Please review with any suggestions or critiques. I welcome all feedback. Follow if the story is to your liking! See you all in two weeks!
> 
> Songs listened to while writing:   
> “Ophelia” by The Lumineers  
> “Paradise” by Coldplay  
> “Mr. Blue Sky” by ELO  
> “Dazed and Confused” by Ruel  
> “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond  
> “House of the Rising Sun” by The Animals  
> “Blinding Lights” by The Weeknd  
> “Lose Yourself” by eminem  
> “Loser” by Jagwar Twin  
> “Running Wild” by Pascal & Pearce  
> “Novocaine” by The Unlikely Candidates  
> “Wonderful” by Rob Thomas  
> “Morena” by Mariana Nolasco  
> “Waiting for you” by Alexander Jean  
> “Long Time Coming” by Jagwar Twin  
> and Facetiming my Co-Author
> 
> Chapter Wordcount (No A/N): 2877  
> Total Wordcount: 3631


	3. Chapter 2 - The Incursion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has a Discord! (discord (dot) gg (slash) HTmGeTj) Thanks, AO3, for not publishing the full link. That’s just fantastic.
> 
> A/N at end of chapter, includes info about currency exchanges and value for this story.

The people of Vale were used to strange sights. From huntsmen in strange garbs, carrying strange weapons, to the creatures of Grimm, or street racers like the Yellow Devil with her cursed motorcycle, very few things could cause them to stop in their tracks and stare. But on one fateful day, every pedestrian, without fail, stopped to stare. They stopped to whisper, to gossip, to whip out scrolls and take photos. For the view that greeted them was one that boggled the masses.

Down the street, the oddity wandered. Tapping his wooden cane on the ground in front of him, the behemoth followed a (comparatively) small faunus. By everyone’s standards, this faunus was normal. Normal build, normal behaviours, normal looks. The oddity, on the other hand, was everything but normal. Standing at least two heads above even the tallest of the crowd, the man stared sightlessly ahead, relying on his cane to guide his path. With taps and bounces, his cane painted a vivid picture for him. Avoiding the slack-jawed civilians, the towering man posed a question to his guide.

“How much further is this shop of yours?” He rumbled. 

“Only a block and a half more, Issho,” The faunus replied. The now-named Issho grunted, before continuing his tapping of the sidewalk and striding forwards. Within a minute, they were waiting on the streetlight to change so they could cross the street to get to the faunus’ bookstore. 

“Is it really necessary to wait for these lights? I cannot imagine that it is terribly convenient for anyone here, Tukson,” Issho said. 

With a laugh, the faunus (now named Tukson) replied. “While it is possible to cross when the lights are not with us, we run the risk of the cars not stopping for us. It’s simply safer for us to wait.”

Issho grumbled, then straightened as the light emitted the tone of a chirping bird. “That does mean we may cross, correct?” He inquired.

“Yep!” Tukson replied. “Let’s get to work, you’ve got a lot to learn before you can start paying me back.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

With a jangle, Tukson pulled out his keyring and fished for the correct key for his store’s front door. Several cars rushed by before he was able to pick it out. 

“Alright, Issho. Let’s start on your orientation!” Tuskon exclaimed. His very first employee! Tukson was excited, to say the least. Now he wouldn’t have to throw out his back lifting boxes of books onto storage shelves. Those things were heavy. With a chime, Tukson pulled open the door, ushering Issho inside so he could give him a quick tour. Locking the door behind them, he began to speak.

“We’ve got shelves in the front, with books organized by genre, then by the author's name alphabetically. If an author has multiple books or series in, we group by series. Towards the back we have the counter with the register. In the back is storage, as well as my sweet, sweet coffee maker. I also have a few snacks on some shelves back there, so help yourself if you get hungry. In the back we also have the delivery door. Books come to there and are dropped off in crates just outside. Your job will be to bring in the crates, then store them anywhere that’s free on the storage shelves back there. The back isn’t organized so it doesn’t matter where they go. Any questions so far?” Tukson explained. (No, he was not out of breath from that explanation.)

“Are you sure it’s wise to have the back so unorganized? What happens if you need to find a specific book?” Issho asked. He was confused, such disorganization would never fly in the marines. 

“Each crate is stamped with a delivery date, and the delivery service tells me what books came in on what date. If someone asks for a specific book, I can check my scroll for the name and see what date it came in. Then it’s just a matter of finding the crate and looking through it for the book. Simple enough,” Tukson explained. “Any more?”

Issho thought for a moment, then decided that, no, he was fine with what he had been told already. 

With a negatory shake of his head, Issho began clacking his way towards the back door. Tukson stared after him, thoughts racing through his head. With a shake to clear it, he turned on the store lights from a switch by the register, then walked to the front of the store to unlock the front door for the day.

Little did either employee know of the storm that would be arriving at the humble bookshop on that fateful day.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The day had started well enough. In just a few hours, Tukson had pulled in enough customers to cover his daily operating costs. Everything was going smoothly, and his back had never felt better. As he rubbed the small of his back (phantom pains are real, okay? Even if it’s not a proper injury, dammit), he wondered how Issho was doing in the back. Even with Tukson’s naturally enhanced strength, those boxes were heavy. Each one held a hundred or so books, and with each book weighing about two and three-quarter pounds, each crate was about two hundred seventy-five pounds. Lifting that weight above one’s head was an endeavour. Even with how large Tukson’s new roommate was, he didn’t know how much of that size was muscle. 

Which is why, when Tukson opened the door to the back to check in when the store was empty (around eleven in the morning), he was astounded to see Issho lifting the box to (his) head with one hand! Tukson’s jaw dropped, and his brain took a temporary smoke break. When his brain finally returned, he snapped his jaw shut, then did an about-face and promptly stopped thinking about it, letting the door swing closed behind him. Tukson was beginning to learn that everything about Issho was strange, and that if he wanted his sanity intact, he would stop questioning the things that surrounded him. Tukson promptly returned to manning the counter as the door chimed, and in walked a green-haired, dark-skinned female, followed by a grey-haired, fair skinned male. 

The male stopped and began browsing the books near the door, while the female walked (more… sashayed, really) up to the counter. In the back of his mind, he started, recognizing these two from somewhere. Where, exactly, Tukson couldn’t be sure. His mind was still recovering from the defiance of physics happening in the back room. As he and the two began conversing, however, everything snapped back into place. A single thought dominated his mind as he remembered where these two were from. Dread filled his body.

“The White Fang”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

In the back rooms, a crate balanced on each hand, Issho faintly detected the two enter the store, and went to dismiss them from his mind when he realized something. Their Haki signature was strong. More than strong, they felt absolutely chock-full of malice. It felt like some late-Paradise captains, the ones who weren’t strong enough to make it in the New World and so preyed upon those that weren’t powerful enough to fight back. Instantly, Issho went on high-alert, not having felt a signature as powerful as these two’s before now. As he readied his senses, he felt something else peak his interest, high in the sky, but quickly dismissed it in favour of studying the happenings in the store.

He felt the two split up, with the more subtle signature approaching Tukson while the more obvious one remained near the front of the store. 

“Covering exits? Or just browsing?” He wondered. Just to be safe, Issho placed the crates in his hands on the shelf before closing and locking the rear door. The crates out back could wait. Grabbing his cane from where it was propped by the door to the store, he prepared himself. If they were here to buy books, then there was no problem. If they were here to do harm to his saviour, they would not be able to crawl away when he was done.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

*Barely two minutes later*

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“You shouldn’t make a promise you can’t keep, Tukson.” Emerald stated from near the register. Laughing in his head, Mercury flicked a switch near the first of three windows, darkening it. He struggled to keep his face straight as he readied himself for what was coming. 

“I hear that you’re planning on leaving. Moving all the way to Vacuo.” Mercury’s face twitched as he flicked the second switch, darkening the window in the door. He was fighting for control of his own face here.

“Your brothers in the White Fang won’t be happy to hear that.” Mercury flicked the final switch, and finally, finally allowed the grin to slip into place. He was going to enjoy this.

“And neither are we.” Emerald stated.

“Dust, how long is she going to monologue?” Mercury asked in his head.

“You know who we are, don’t you?” She asked.

The soft reply came from the bookstore owner, drawn unwillingly from his lips. 

“Yes.”

“And you know why we’re here?” Emerald continued.

“Yes.” Came spoken out, drawn by fear and anticipation.

“Sooo, are you going to fight back?” Emerald finished.

“Finally, we can stop fucking talking and get to fighting!” Mercury shouted in his head once more.

“Yes!” Tukson roared out, before jumping towards Emerald whilst his nails extended into claws.

Emerald dodged to the side and Mercury shot forwards, raising his leg for a strike at the bookstore owner’s face. It caught the man in the jaw, throwing him backwards, over the desk he had just leapt from, and into the back wall. With a cry, the man jumped up, cracked his jaw, and spat blood to the side. 

“I’m not going to make this easy for you,” He declared.

“I would hope not, I didn’t walk for miles through this shithole of a city just to have a one-shot for a fight.” Mercury grinned back, before rushing in and aiming a sweeping kick towards Tukson’s legs. 

When the man leapt up to dodge it, Emerald came flying in with her kama extended, swinging sideways at his torso. With the bookstore owner in midair, he had no way to dodge, and caught both directly on his chest. They bit deep, spraying blood forwards and out as he was wrenched to the side, before rolling as he hit the ground. Mercury snorted, then landed a punishing kick to Tukson’s already-destroyed chest, throwing him into the front of the counter.

“What a disappointment,” Mercury grumbled. Just as the two began moving to finish Tukson off, they heard a clatter as the back door opened. 

“Tukson? I heard a commotion from the back, is everything okay?” A man walked out of the back room, staring sightlessly ahead. Forwards he walked, tapping the ground in front of him with his wooden cane.

Mercury froze, then held up a hand to Emerald, stopping her from moving, before bringing a finger to his lips. Mouthing “He’s blind” to her, he backed up from Tukson’s body silently, sliding out of the way of the blind man’s path. It was at this point that he realized just how enormous the man was. Walking alone, he nearly took up the entire aisle.

“Tukson? Are you okay?” The man repeated, moving towards the front desk. It was then that Tukson let out a wet, burbling cough as blood flowed into his mouth, barely managing to get out a single word.

“Run.”

“Run? Tukson, what happened?” It was then that the behemoth slipped in a pool of blood, barely managing to maintain his balance as he floundered for footing. Once he regained his balance, he knelt in front of the battered bookstore owner, patting the ground before bringing his hand up to smell it. 

“Copper? Tukson, is this blood? What the hell happened to you? We have to get you to a hospital!” It was here that the assassin duo made their move.

Mercury crept up behind the blind man, still fussing over a bleeding Tukson, raising his leg for a swift strike to the back of the neck. Just as he began to swing, both Mercury and Emerald froze, feeling a change in the air. The man’s demeanor had swapped like night and day, from an oblivious blind fool to that of a beast poised to strike.

“There’s your first mistake, boy. Don’t assume that the way someone acts is indicative of their abilities.” With that ominous statement, the man rose and turned, towering over the still-frozen Mercury, one hand on his cane. “I hope you’re ready to reap what you’ve sown”

Mercury unfroze, slamming his raised leg to the ground and spinning on it, aiming his other leg at the man’s jaw, a devastating back-kick that could shatter concrete. 

This same concrete-shattering kick was brought to a standstill, caught in the open palm of the behemoth. The hand closed, clamping down on the foot like a vice. Whipping his arm across his body, the man flung the metal-legged teen to the side, Mercury cratering the wall he hit.

“Normally, I would at least allow you the chance to fight back. However, right now, seeing what you’ve done to my benefactor, I only hope you are strong enough to survive,” the Behemoth rumbled out, sounding like thunder cracking in the distance, promising a storm. 

“Fuck you!” Mercury coughed out, before jumping and pushing off the wall to strike at the man’s chest. As he leapt, the man twisted his cane’s handle slightly, before pulling and revealing an inch of steel.

“Fall,” The man bit out, before an aura (not the Remnant type) filled the bookstore, and Mercury crashed to the ground. Emerald dropped to one knee as their bodies became instantaneously heavier. 

“What the hell? I can’t sense his Aura!” Emerald thought, before the weight multiplied and the very ground around them began to cave. The floorboards shrieked in protest as the teens tried to stay vertical. Falling flat on her face, Emerald struggled to raise her body, and Mercury levered himself against a bookshelf and lifted himself to his knees.

“Who the fuck are you?” Mercury panted out, his energy depleting by the second. Someone this strong had to be a huntsman, even if they couldn’t sense his Aura. 

“If you are asking for my name, it is Issho. If you are asking for my position, I will only reply with the phrase ‘nobody special’,” Issho returned, grinning ferally as he turned away, ripping Tukson’s shirt into strips to begin binding his wounds. Emerald saw this as an opportunity, and fired a bullet from her pistols, Thief’s Respite. Before either of the would-be assassins could blink, Issho had drawn his sword fully, turned, and sliced the bullet out of the air. 

Both teen’s brains flatlined and then restarted as they processed what they had seen.

“I would advise not trying that again,” Issho bit out, before the pressure on the teens doubled-down. The two crumpled, landing face first on the ground, their craters large enough that they were covering half the storefront. They couldn’t move a finger, much less raise their heads to glare at their oppressor.

With that statement, the Admiral turned and began bandaging Tukson, reaching around the man to bind his wounds. When he was stabilized, Issho walked to the edge of Mercury’s crater, pondering how to deal with them. While he would normally have ended them long before now, he had no idea of the laws of this strange, new land. He had no idea about how he could be punished, and he didn’t want to have anything happen to Tukson because of his actions.

Issho was so deep in thought, he missed Emerald raising herself to all fours. As a final act of defiance, she drew back an arm and hurled her kama at the bloodied man laying against the counter. Issho snapped to as it passed him, heading straight for Tukson. The metal gleamed in the light (not that Issho could see it), and his control over the two teens broke as he snapped into a shave, sprinting to deflect the kama before it could end his friend. 

He got to it just in time, and as he turned to finish the two off, laws be damned, Tukson let out another burbling cough. Issho froze for a brief second, and during that second the two leapt out of the window, shattering it in the process, and ran.

Issho growled, then gripped his sword tight and slammed it back into its sheath. He would tend to Tukson, but those two would have to watch their backs. He had memorized their Haki signatures, and if he found them again there was no distance they could run that he would not chase them. Before that, though, Tukson needed urgent care. Issho grabbed the bloodied man, hauling him into a princess carry as he strode out the front door. Pedestrians froze as he yelled for help. When the ambulance arrived, Issho asked for directions and began striding towards the hospital, deep in thought.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Blake Belladonna was not having the greatest day. First, she had been woken up far earlier than was necessary by one white-haired little Miss Perfect, then she had forgotten the homework Professor Port had assigned, and then the same little Miss Perfect had scolded her (scolded, like she was a child) about not forgetting “such important assignments.” Screw her. She passed the hospital, and had to stop crossing the street as an ambulance screeched into the urgent care bay. 

Her day was going to look up soon, though, as a new volume of Ninjas of Love had released the day previous. She was on her way to Tukson’s to purchase it when she saw him. The man towered over the rest of the crowd. Clad in a purple… was that a bathrobe? No, on closer inspection the man was wearing a formal robe of some kind. His open-toed sandals clicked and clacked as he tapped the path in front of him with his cane. So engrossed in her observation was she, that she didn’t realize she was blocking her path until the man’s cane connected with her toes.

Her Aura reflexively flared, blocking her toes from a rather nasty bruise. The man’s head snapped over, sightless eyes boring deep into her own. After a moment of intense scrutiny, he spoke.

“Excuse me, but could you direct me to the hospital? I’m afraid I’m just a bit lost at the moment.” the man asked.

It took her a moment to realize that he was, indeed, addressing her, and that she still hadn’t responded.

“Um, sure! The hospital is only two blocks away, just turn right at the end of this street and it’s down on your left.” Blake floundered. Her interpersonal skills still left much to be desired.

“Thank you, miss.” With that statement, the man began tipping, tapping, clicking, and clacking his way down the street, before he disappeared around the corner.

Just as he turned, however, Blake’s blood chilled as she noticed that his hand was covered in red. “Blood”. The fact that there was none on his clothes, and the fact that he didn’t seem to be in pain, made her think that it was someone else's.

“Wonder if he’s related to that ambulance that came in a minute ago,” she thought, before glancing at her scroll. “Dust, I only have half an hour before I have to get back to the dorm! Guess the book will have to wait until a later day. And here I thought my day was getting better.” With that somber thought, she turned and began jogging back towards the bullhead station, intent on returning to the room and continuing her research on the White Fang.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Issho was tired. Not from the work of today, nor the skirmish that took place after, but because his mind was overworked. He was shooting in the dark, and while that normally wouldn’t be anything new, in this case there was a difference. He had no means of gathering information, no way to learn about his location, and no possible contact with the marines. 

This place was so technologically advanced that even Vegapunk was severely outclassed. The “cars'' that rushed by, the electrical systems being widespread and common, and the something that he had sensed but dismissed before. 

Just before Tukson was assaulted, he had noticed it, high in the sky. Before, he had dismissed it, as he was more preoccupied with Tukson’s safety, but now, he could take the time to extend his senses to the maximum. Stretching his Devil Fruit awareness as far as he could, he froze in his tracks. “Flying machines? And so many of them! Not only that, but there’s at least two hundred strong Haki Signatures in my range alone,” raced through his head, before he jolted and continued walking. “I need a way to gather information, and I can’t do it through Tukson. After I visit him, I’m getting myself one of those portable computers. ‘Scrolls’, I believe they were called. Stupid name, they don’t even roll!”

His mind made up, he vowed to obtain a scroll by the end of the week. Perhaps he could get a scroll with his payment for the day, though he had no idea how much one would cost. If he didn’t have enough, he could always gamble for more. Ah, the vices of humanity.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

An hour and a half later, Issho walked out of the hospital, two hundred Lien richer as his salary for the day, which thankfully Tukson had been conscious to give him. A decent scroll would run him 1400 Lien, which meant that he needed 1200 more if he wanted to get an electronic device he could talk to and get information from. Which meant it was now time for Issho’s favourite pastime. It was time to gamble his money at barely two in the afternoon! No wonder his subordinates’ blood-pressures were so high. Whistling a popular sea shanty to himself, he set off to search for a casino of some sort.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

In an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Vale, one master thief was ecstatic. The reason for his over-the-moon mood was because Cinder’s brats had fucked up. Royally. One of his men had seen the two brats moving on his mark, before getting their asses handed to them by a random employee. Sweet lord, he might actually crack a rib if he kept laughing like this. He only barely managed to school his expression when a grunt approached. 

“Boss, the kids are about to get here. Thought you’d like to know.” The masked grunt spat out, visibly disgusted with the master criminal’s joy.

“Perfect! Now, let’s see how much I can poke before one of them gives.” Roman Torchwick, thief extraordinaire, practically skipped to the door, waiting for the two to enter. Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but he would if he didn’t have an image to uphold. Ah, his day could not get better.

And here came the brats now! Was Mercury limping? Oh, this would be perfect. Time for some fun.

“Oh look! She sent the kids again! This is turning out just like the divorce,” Torchwick needled, throwing his arms around the two teens, straining to keep his expression under control. Well, at least no more smug than normal.

Emerald, visibly disgusted, spat out “Spare us the thought of you procreating.”

With that, Emerald and Mercury wrenched themselves out of his arms, Mercury stumbling a bit as his foot didn’t respond properly. Torchwick pouted.

“That was a joke. In any case, this might explain where you two have been.” Holding up a piece of paper, then reversing it to show the teens, revealing the location of Tukson’s Book Trade. “Tell me, why would you two have this address?” His grin threatened to break through his facade of impassiveness. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Emerald snarled back

“Oh I would, but more importantly,” His grin couldn’t be contained any longer, and he nearly laughed when he saw the teens’ horrified expressions. “Mind telling me how, exactly, two trained assassins lost completely to a bookstore employee? Not just lost, though, you were decimated. I always suspected you had a thing for that type of stuff, but this is just the icing on the cake.”

Mercury and Emerald’s expressions fell. “We were trying to clean up your mess. If it wasn’t for-”

“Wasn’t for what?” A new voice rang out. All three criminals straightened, before Torchwick turned and grinned vibrantly at the new arrival. 

“Cinder! How have you been? How are the kids? How’s the mister? I was just asking how, exactly, your two specially trained assassins managed to blow their cover, get in a fight, lose against an employee, then come back here and try to blame me.” Torchwick said. His grin couldn’t be contained now, not even if he was facing down the most dangerous person he knew.

“Torchwick. Spare me your jokes. I’m not in the mood right now,” the woman in red returned, before turning her attention to the two teens.

“As for you two.”

Torchwick could almost hear the teens gulp from behind him. Damn, if only he had been able to snap a photo of their expressions. Prime blackmail material right there, and he probably could have sold them if he wanted some spare cash. What a missed opportunity.

“I thought I was exceptionally clear when I said to keep your hands clean while in Vale,” Cinder bit out. “What, exactly, made you think it was a good idea to blow your cover for a mark that would have been taken care of?!” Cinder’s voice slowly grew in volume until she was nearly shouting by the end of her tirade. With every word, the teens had shrunk in on themselves, until they were almost cowering when she finished. 

“And as for you,” she rounded on him, taking one long stride forwards and putting herself very much in his personal space. 

“Whoah, whoah, hands off the goods!” He exclaimed, taking a step back to regain his very important (and delicate!) personal bubble. 

“Torchwick, why was the rat not taken care of already? I specifically asked you to remove it, before it became a problem. Now? Now it’s very much a problem. Why did you not take care of it before now?” Cinder spat out, every word venomous as a Cobra’s bite. 

“Eh?” Torchwick gestured left, right, above, and around. “Ehh?! In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been busy stealing every speck of Dust from this Kingdom, by your orders. So, I’m sorry that you couldn’t keep your dogs in line,” he taunted.

“You’re an inspiration to crooks everywhere, truly,” Mercury drawled, before freezing when Cinder levelled him with a glare hot enough to melt ice.

“Look around, kid! I’ve got this town on the back foot. Police are camping corners, Dust prices are through the roof, and we’re standing in a warehouse with more dust, vials, and rounds than we could ever possibly use. Speaking of use, if you wouldn’t mind filling me in on your master plan, it might help my work go more… smoothly,” Torchwick responded. He was calm as could be, his mood still high from the teen’s massive fuck-up.

“Oh Torchwick, have a little faith,” Cinder replied. “You’ll know what you need when you need to know it.”

“Yeah, cause that makes a ton of sense,” Torchwick responded, dry as a Vacouan desert. 

“Besides,” She said, ignoring Torchwick’s quip. “We’re done with dust. We’ll be moving on. Have the White Fang clear the building, I’ll send you details and co-ordinates tonight.”

“Co-ordinates?” Torchwick was confused. Buildings had addresses, didn’t they?

“We’re proceeding to phase two,” Cinder replied with a grin, before turning away and motioning for the teens to follow her. “I’ll deal with you two later tonight.”

Torchwick grinned as Mercury hobbled after his boss, Emerald glaring at him one last time before following.

Yeah, today had been great. One for the books, really. If only he had gotten that photo.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Yang was furious, and her mood was only incensed when she heard the staff member swindling the blind man again. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Yang approached the Roulette table, and by proxy, the giant in purple, clenching her fists as she got close. “What the hell is this about? This guy clearly won, give him the winnings!”

With a nervous glance, the tender laughed, then tried to bluff his way out. A poor idea, to say the least.

“Girly, why don’t you get your eyes checked? He called Red 23, and the ball is in Black 8.”

The poor man never even saw the haymaker coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello all! To everyone new, welcome! To you returning readers, welcome back! Thank you all SO SO MUCH for your incredibly positive reviews; I didn’t realize people would actually want or like this story as much as they did. 
> 
> Thank you to the people that wished me a good trip to visit my girlfriend across the country and thank you all for understanding that this chapter would be postponed a week for said trip. 
> 
> I hope this fight scene and world-building is up to everyone’s par (haha, golf puns). I also hope that my descriptions of Issho’s abilities and personality are not too Out Of Character, this is my first proper story. Thank you all for all your positivity and help!
> 
> Sidenote time! I really had some good ideas for the fight (the description “with all the force of a freight train” was originally gonna describe a punch from Fujitora), but I couldn’t realistically write them in without nerfing Issho heavily, and I want him to retain his canon-strength. I will be placing some plot-blocks (heh, cock-blocks) on his OP-ness for the rest of the story though, as otherwise all conflicts would be solved almost instantly. I mean FFS his Devil Fruit range reaches fucking space. More than that, he is capable of producing gravity so intense it literally causes a multiple thousand mile-per-hour change to orbiting debris in seconds. Thanks for understanding that.
> 
> More sidenote: I couldn’t find a reliable source of currency conversion for Lien to USD, so I’m operating on the assumption that 1 Lien = 3.5 USD (approx.). The reason for this is that Ruby’s outfit (her original one) was evidently only twenty Lien to produce, and an outfit that is as custom as hers is, plus production fees, could feasibly be made for about seventy dollars, if she was a middle-schooler-equivalent at the time. In addition, a train ticket is paid for with a single turquoise Lien card, which comes out to about $3.50 (USD). While slightly low for inter-city and slightly high for in-city, this is also feasible if it is a medium distance (I.E. Cross-town or cross-city). Finally, Qrow pays for a night of drinking (which for an alcoholic is probably eight to ten drinks) with four Lien cards (the blue colour, which is the second cheapest Lien Card; equivalent to ~~ $50 USD). This is a fair price for eight drinks, especially if they’re top shelf or exceptionally strong, which makes sense for Qrow, who is a heavy drinker.
> 
> In regards to the cost of Issho’s salary and the scroll cost, an iPhone 8 (which is a mid-range phone at the moment) runs $400 USD, or 1400 Lien. In addition, if we go by US Minimum Wage, (I made Issho earn the equivalent of $8/hr for now, as he’s only entry level and isn’t paying for housing, utilities, or anything like that, only food.) Issho would earn $70.40 for the average 8.8 hour workday. Assuming they worked for three and a half hours (8am-11:30am, when Emerald and Mercury were forced to flee), Issho would have earned 98 Lien, and if he had worked the full day he would have earned 271.04 Lien for 8.8 hours. We’ll call it two hundred for his salary plus a bonus. You know, the whole life-saving things. God I’m motivated, that’s a lot of math for when I could be playing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, which I just got recently. You all better appreciate this >:T
> 
> If anyone has any suggestions for the future of the story, please don’t hesitate to contact me via PM or review. Any future conflicts, meetings, encounters, fight scenes, or references, let me know and if it’s plausible and I feel it fits with the story I’ll try and write it in.
> 
> Also, please let me know if there are any grammatical errors, continuity issues, or debased sentences anywhere in the story.
> 
> If the story is to your liking, consider dropping a favourite or follow if you want to be updated when anything changes with the story. Thank you for reading! See you all next week!
> 
> Songs Listened to while Writing:  
> “Rain” by Manuel Gardner Fernandez  
> “Ragdoll” by Aerosmith  
> “The Mighty Fall” by Fallout Boy  
> “Bella Ciao” by NAESTRO ft. Maître GIMS, VITAA, DADJU, and SLIMANE  
> “Get Right Back” by Fitz and the Tantrums  
> “Hallelujah” by Panic! at the Disco  
> “Sing” by Pentatonix  
> “Carnival Kerfuffle” by Studio MDHR  
> “Dancin’ (KRONO Remix)” by Aaron Smith  
> “Friend Like Me” by Ne-Yo  
> “Still Feel” by Half Alive  
> “The Phoenix” by Fallout Boy  
> “The Last Of The Real Ones” by Fallout Boy  
> “More (RedOne Remix)” by Usher  
> “Down” by Jay Sean  
> “Close To The Sun” by TheFatRat ft. Anjulie  
> “Whatever It Takes” by Imagine Dragons  
> “Keep It 100” by 3for3  
> “The Less I Know The Better” by Tame Impala  
> “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell  
> “Don't Stop Me Now” by Queen  
> “Turn All The Lights On” by T-Pain ft. Ne-Yo  
> and FaceTiming my Co-Author
> 
> Total Wordcount: 5688  
> Wordcount without A/N: 4820


	4. Chapter 3 - The Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has a Discord! (discord (dot) gg (slash) HTmGeTj) Thanks, AO3, for not publishing the full link. That’s just fantastic.
> 
> A/N at the end of chapter

Cinder Fall, hand to the dark queen Salem, was livid. The reason for her anger was not something that could be comprehended by mere mortals. It was not the orders of her mistress, nor any supernatural factor. It was, in fact, the squabbling of children. It was bad enough that her two subordinates had disobeyed her, and as though their near miss with being exposed wasn’t enough, she was now going to be stuck acting for the fool of a headmaster at Beacon for the foreseeable future. Fantastic. If those two didn’t shut up, she swore that she’d end up incinerating both of them. And while that might ease her constant headaches, she would then be bereft of two of her most useful tools.

Speaking of the devil(s), the two had just entered the safehouse she was basing out of. While the White Fang were a much-needed player in their game of destruction, gods above did they move slow. You would think their enhanced strength and superior night vision would be a boon when moving heavy boxes of dust at night. Evidently not.

“ -telling you, there’s no way that he isn’t a huntsman!” came faintly through the door.

With a bang, it swung open, revealing the source of the majority of her headaches.

“And I’m telling you that if there was someone that strong in Vale, there’s no way that we wouldn’t have heard of them before!” Emerald spat out, evidently annoyed with her partner, Mercury. 

“The real question is when is Emerald not annoyed by Mercury?” Cinder thought. The two would be so much more effective if they could just shut up for five minutes. But alas, there was no haven for her here. The two had been arguing about their fight (if one could even call that beatdown a fight) for the past day. She had just about had it. The same arguments over and over, all day. Cinder could already feel the start of a new headache when Mercury began reiterating the same point from two hours ago once again.

“End my misery,” drifted through her mind as she tried her damndest to ignore them. Best get to work on her mistresses’ commands. No point delaying, even with these two here.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Issho was on high alert. Ever since he detected those flying machines, he realized that he was in either an unexplored area of the world (which was very unlikely, simply because of the expanse of the World Government), or he was in a hidden nation. There were problems with both theories, however. While not unheard of, there were so few places that a nation could be hidden that he seriously doubted that was his case. 

The flying machines were one point against the Hidden Nation theory; anything that advanced couldn’t have been contained for long. Someone would have gone rogue and stolen one, or sold it for profit. A second point was the sheer scale of the place he found himself in. When he was conversing with Tukson shortly after he woke up, the man had mentioned a ‘continent’. By his verification, a continent was massively larger than an island. Even Alabasta, the largest island in Paradise, was an ant compared to this so-called ‘continent’. And the final, most damning piece of evidence, was the sheer amount of debris in space. While he couldn’t reach more than a tenth of the way to the moon, the area he could reach was almost filled to the brim with pieces of debris. Some were dense, easier to grab, while some seemed… fabricated. Too light for a meteor or asteroid, but still heavy enough that he could sense them from so far away. It almost seemed to be solid metal.

Even above the Grand Line, with it’s strange magnetic properties drawing in space junk, the space was a hundred times more dense. Bits and pieces floated through the nothingness, turning the empty void into a veritable mosh pit. Nowhere in his travels had he ever found a place with so much debris.

His mind awhirl with thoughts, Issho continued down the street, feeling civilians parting around him like a river around a rock. With one final pulse of his power, he noted the location of all the flying machines. Most were clustered near the large compound on the east edge of the city. With a start, he also realized that was where the strongest Haki signature in the city resided. It felt… aged. Like Dark King Rayleigh, or Former Fleet Admiral Sengoku. Impossibly, it felt even older than Vice-Admiral Tsuru’s signature. And (not that he’d ever even entertain the thought of saying it aloud) Tsuru was ancient. 

Surrounding the exceptionally powerful signature were approximately one hundred more, with five standing out above the rest. One, dark and black, seemingly swaying without anything happening around it. The owner must have been in quite the bad mood. The second, firm, hard, and unyielding. The third was almost… vibrating. Calm, but quietly excited. The fourth was large, but contained. Almost… suppressed. The fifth was almost soothing. It seemed to set the area around it at ease, but not without an incredible power backing it. Strangely, the fifth was subdued. Trapped behind a barrier that, even from here, Issho could tell was involuntary. The strangest part of the signature was that it did not move. There were no fluctuations, no trembles, no emotion.

Shaken, Issho shook his head, then forged onwards, moving deeper into the seedier parts of Vale. Within ten minutes, he stood before his target. Even from outside, the admiral could feel the ground trembling beneath him as music of some kind thumped from inside. With a few taps, he located the front step (there was only one, what was the point of that?), and placed his hand on the door to the entrance. Just as he began to push, the door was flung open from inside, and the tail end of a sentence could be heard, shouted backwards into the pounding music.

“-not the point! I pay you for men, not advice! See if I ever come back for more helpers!” the stranger shouted.

Just before Issho could lower his hand, the stranger strode forwards. 

Directly into his outstretched hand.

“Thwap” echoed out, and Issho felt the round brim of a hat as he hurriedly lowered his arm. 

“I’m very sorry about that,” the gigantic man got out, just as the stranger took a step back. A very soft laugh could be heard, before the person replied.

“No problem! Not on either of us, eh? Just watch yourself up there, big guy,” the stranger replied, before moving around Issho and striding away.

With a confused glance backwards (not that the glance did anything, per se, but hey, muscle memory and all that), Issho strode inside, closing the door behind him. With a deep breath, he moved around the very large dance floor and up to the bar. Claiming a soft topped bar seat, he shifted a bit, getting comfortable, before falling still and silent as he waited. Barely a minute later, the bartender had strode up, handed him what seemed to be a menu (“Really?”), and turned to stride away. With a slight cough, Fujitora reclaimed the bartender’s attention, before handing the menu back.

“This won’t be much use to me, if you catch my meaning,” Issho said, waving his right hand in front of his face, left still gripping his cane. 

“Ah shit, sorry about that. You wouldn’t happen to know what you want already, would you?” The barkeep replied, reaching under the bar to store the menu. 

“If you have any Rice Wine, that would be perfect. If not, whatever you recommend. Just keep it below five Lien, if possible,” Issho returned, before shifting once more as the all-too-small bar stool cut into him.

“You got it, boss,” the bartender returned, going off to check the stock for any Rice Wine.

Issho stretched his senses, ‘seeing’ the other members of the club. Posted at various intervals around the entire area were men with similar builds, all carrying firearms of some kind.

“Security, then,” Issho thought, before observing the rest of the patrons. Near the back were two smaller figures, almost identical in build, weight, and even stance. Odd. The various clubbers were scattered around the dance floor, with only two patrons sharing the bar with him. 

The bartender returned at this point in the purple giant’s musings, handing him a frosty glass. When Issho drew it closer, he heard the clinking of ice, and the bartender spoke.

“We didn’t have any rice wine, unfortunately, but I decided you might like a Mai Tai. The glass is a bit small, for you anyways, but I’ll give the second one half off because of that. Don’t underestimate its strength, either. It might taste like there’s no alcohol in there, but that thing is mostly rum and curaçao,” the bartender spoke, his baritone rumbling in a clash with the music in the air. 

“I appreciate it,” the admiral responded.

With a quick nod, the man behind the counter began to move off, saying “Not a problem,” when Issho cleared his throat. 

“I was actually wondering if you could answer a quick question for me. I’m in need of a good casino, and with how centrally located you are, not to mention the quality of the establishment, I was hoping you could point me in the right direction,” Issho spoke, catching the attention of the barkeep once more. 

“Depends on what type of experience you’re looking for. I only know of the more… down-to-earth establishments,” he returned.

“That would be perfect,” Issho replied, a feral grin spreading across his face as he read the other man’s implication clearly.

“Then you’ll probably want to head down to O’Flanagan’s. It’s only about five blocks away, but be careful- it’s a little divey, you might want to wear a vest,” the barkeep responded, a matching grin spreading on his own face. It was so rare to find someone that could handle themselves, and fresh off the street, no less.

“Vest? Would my current attire be out of place there?” Issho asked, confused.

With a dry look, the barman responded. “Bulletproof vest, not dress vest. And buddy, I hate to be the one to break the news to you, but that outfit wouldn’t fit in anywhere. They’re only going to open tomorrow though, they aren't open on Sundays. Down near the docks, by a few abandoned warehouses. Owner claims to be a man of the lord, if you can believe it.”

Issho’s confused expression cleared, before he responded. “I understand now. Is it really so outlandish? This outfit is rather normal where I come from. And thank you for the information,” Issho replied, before sliding the barkeep a blue Lien card, stacked on top of another, more valuable pink Lien card. For fifteen Lien, he had obtained valuable information, “as well as a very delicious drink”, he noted with slight surprise as he took a sip.

“Not a problem, boss. Hard to find people that understand how difficult it is for any valuable information to be found,” the bartender responded, before a grin spread across his face once more as he saw the value of the… ahem… tip he had been left. He was liking this guy more and more by the second.

Issho quietly enjoyed his drink, then stood, and with one final nod at the bartender, strode out the door, walking towards Tukson’s apartment, deep in thought.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Hei “Junior” Xiong, infamous information broker, watched the towering figure disappear out the door with slight fondness, despite having just met him. As the figure disappeared behind the closing doors, swallowed up by the inky blackness, he turned to the nearest henchman, waving him down. 

“Get me everything you can on that guy,” he snapped, all fondness evaporating from his face like a snowball rolling into hell.

“Why-” was all the henchman got out, before Junior reached over, grabbed the man’s lapel, and nearly hauled him over the bar. The poor man had just enough time to notice the sweat dripping down the face of his boss, and the trembling of his hand, before he was almost hauled over the bartop. 

“Because, you moron, that man could have flattened this place with a thought if he wanted,” Hei Xiong ground out, thoroughly shaken by his experience.

“But boss, if he’s that strong, how come we didn’t know about him before?” The goon got out, gasping for air around his now too-tight collar and his employer’s fist, lodged firmly in the base of his neck.

Junior stared at the man as though he was braindead.

“Why do you think I told you to get me everything you could on him,” Vale’s most knowledgeable man ground out, infuriated with his choice of employee. Seriously, was the total combined IQ of his grunts that of a cabbage? You would think that they would be capable of higher reasoning, but evidently not. 

“Get… going,” he spat, before releasing the poor grunt, turning to clear away the bar.

“Yes, boss,” the goon gasped out, before scrambling to fulfill his employer’s orders.

While Hei was storing (read: slamming) bottles of alcohol on the shelves, Miltia and Melanie Malachite sashayed up, before planting their right elbows on the bar in unison, propping their left arms up on their hands, crossing their right leg to rest toe-first on the ground in front of their left. Scarily in sync, they both tilted their heads, before asking a question.

“How’d you know that guy was that strong?” they asked, their voices overlapping like a melody.

“Cut it out,” Junior glared back over his shoulder, thoroughly unimpressed with their bit. “If you must know, I felt something similar when I accidentally pissed off a full-fledged huntsman. Think his name was a bird of some kind. The man nearly killed me. Worst part is, the aura that this guy,” he gestured to the door, “gave off was the same as that first huntsman. Tell me, what kind of monster is he that he can give off that level of energy constantly, without even being aware of it?!” Junior was slightly hysteric by the end of his tirade, gasping as his body caught up with the events of the past ten minutes.

“You okay, Junior?” Melanie asked, her red opposite nodding along, concern flitting across their faces. 

“I will be. Not now, not tomorrow. But eventually,” Junior replied, steadying his hands as he finished storing bottles. “When the grunt gets back, send all the info he collects to me. Direct, to my scroll. I’m going to go home for the night. You all close up shop,” The broker said, before coming around the bar and passing a ring of keys to Melanie. The white twin glanced at it, before tossing it to Miltia, the red twin catching it without looking and pocketing it. Both pairs of green eyes bored into their employer, before they dropped their intensity from “skewering” to only “mildly tortuous”.

“You got it, boss,” They both said, voices overlapping.

“Thanks. And keep everything in one piece, if you please,” Junior returned, before striding to the door and, without hesitating, moving into the inky blackness of the night.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The Next Day

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Yang Xiao-Long was bored. This, of course, spelt disaster for everyone nearby, as well as the sanity of anyone that was within screaming distance. Therefore, she decided, she was going to go pester her team! Nothing better than annoying her partner, her little sister, and the Ice Queen herself. 

Her first target was, of course, her partner. The only problem was tracking her down. The sneaky cat was almost always tucked into a corner somewhere, nose buried in a book. Not that Yang minded, see. Tracking her down was part of the fun. A plus side was that the blonde brawler had tracked her down so many times that she was running out of places to hide. 

And within minutes, her theory proved to hold water. Tucked inside the back corner of the garden, Blake was fully occupied by the book in her hands. Yang walked around, out of view of her partner, to behind the tree Blake was leaning against, and leaned out, before grabbing both shoulders and barking out at her partner.

“What’cha doing?”

Blake yelped out “Eep!” before slamming her book shut and rounding on her partner.

“What are you doing?!” She yelled, face flushed.

“Awh, what’s the matter, Blake? Have something embarrassing here?” Yang replied, reaching for the book. She quickly rethought this decision, however, when her hand was nearly skewered by Gambol Shroud’s blade burying itself in the tree next to her hand.

“Keep your hands off,” Blake hissed out, tucking the book into her bag and wrenching Gambol Shroud out of the tree, sheathing it in one fluid movement. 

“Okay, okay, kitty has claws, duly noted!” Yang yelped, before returning to her original objective. “So, Blake, what are you doing? I need something to do, and it seems to me that you just volunteered yourself,” she grinned, stretching her arms above her head and popping her back.

“I think not,” Blake replied, giving the ‘Y’ of RWBY a dry stare. “I was reading, and I will continue to read, as soon as you find someone else to pester. What about Weiss? She’s sure to give you a better reaction,” she stated, before turning to ignore her partner in favour of finding a new reading spot.

“Laaaame!” Yang booed after her, complete with a downturned thumb, before turning towards the library, intent on finding the Ice Queen. The day was still young, barely nine in the morning, so she had plenty of time for fun before classes started in the afternoon.

Sure enough, the frosty whitehead was in the library, gaze fixed intently on the absolutely enormous essay in front of her. Just as Yang spotted her, however, the Schnee’s head snapped up, catching her eyes in a glare as the blonde walked over. 

“What do you want?” The rapier-wielder demanded, gesturing to her essay as she spoke. “As you can see, I’m rather busy, so unless someone is dying or my family is calling, leave me in peace.”

“Geez, so harsh! Is it too much to believe that I just wanted to hang out with you?” The brawler asked, feigning offense as she placed a hand over her heart, gasping in shock.

The glyph-user fixed her with a deadpan stare, responding in a single word.

“Yes.”

“Well, you’d be right! Since you aren’t doing anything interesting, I’ll see you at lunch,” Yang said, before huffing in mock disbelief as Weiss turned her head back to her essay, waving her away as she did. Mind made up, the tallest member of team RWBY turned back, striding out of the library as she went to find her little sister.

Two minutes later, she stood outside the Weapons Workshop, kicking the door open as she levelled her right pointer finger inwards, left hand clenching into a fist in front of her chest.

“Ruby Rose! Prepare yourself for awesomeness!” She declared, focusing on her little sister, hunched over one of the many workbenches.

“Hmm? Oh, hi Yang,” the diminutive reaper responded, without even a glance over her shoulder.

The blonde’s expression fell, dropping her hands to her hips as she spoke.

“Ruby? What are you doing?”

Yang strode forwards, weaving between the tables as she approached her sister, before she saw her sister’s scythe, Crescent Rose, dismantled on the bench in front of her. That explained a lot. When she was working on her weapon, her sister was almost impossible to distract. Getting a conversation out of her was like wringing water out of a boulder. Perfect. All three teammates she could possibly have fun with (read: bother) were all busy.

“Weelllll, it’s only 9:30, and Lunch isn’t till 11:45… I still have time to head into Vale for a little bit. Bullhead ride is only twenty minutes each way. Should be able to search for a bit of info while I’m there, see if anyone has seen Raven.”

Pulling out her scroll, she sent her team a message telling them that she was going to run into Vale. Only Weiss responded, (forming a word comprised of ‘O’ and ‘K’) but the other two were… busy. If one could call it that.

Five minutes later, Yang was sitting in the backseat of a bullhead, earbuds in as she listened to music and searched for new bars and dives to ask around (interrogate) at.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Twenty minutes later, the Bullhead settled with a bump and Yang Xiao-Long stepped off the aircraft, hair sparkling and swaying under the sun. Reaching into her breast pocket, she pulled out a pair of shades, snapped them open, and put them on. During the ride into Vale, she had found two new locations for searching, within reasonable distance. One of them, a hole-in-the-wall called “The Crow Bar,” was only five minutes away. The second, the one she thought might hold real information, was a seedy place called “O’Flanagan’s,” set right in the middle of the worst part of Vale. 

If either place had information she wanted, it was going to be O’Flanagan’s. First, though, was The Crow Bar. After just a few minutes of strolling down the sunlit sidewalks of downtown Vale, she stood before a literal hole in the wall, the name “Crow Bar” stylized over top, with a pair of crossed crowbars in between the words. The bartender, a man with a very impressive moustache, looked over at her as she approached.

“Hiya! You make any Strawberry Sunrises?” Yang chirped, mood bright. The day was beautiful, and her mood was just as vibrant.

“Absolutely, miss. You have an ID on you?” The barkeep replied, setting down the glass he was polishing.

“Here ya go,” Yang replied, tossing her Student ID onto the bartop. Thank god that even hunstmen-in-training could get alcohol. The drinking age was, of course, only sixteen if one was enrolled in a combat academy. Beacon, obviously, qualified.

After a short wait while he studied the ID, he said “Thank you,” handing the plastic card back. “A Strawberry Sunrise, was it?”

“You bet!” The brawler replied, pocketing the ID once more. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to have seen-” she pulled out her scroll and pulled up a picture of her mother, Raven Branwen, “this lady around, ever, would you?”

The mustachioed man took her scroll, focusing on the woman pictured. After a few seconds, he handed it back, shrugging his shoulders.

“Sorry, miss. Never seen her before in my life,” he apologized.

With a sigh, Yang pocketed her scroll, replied “Thanks anyways,” and waited for her drink. While she waited, she watched the TV mounted at the left end of the bar. Scrolling across the bottom of the screen was the headline “Break-in and attempted murder”, while a brunette news reporter spoke, her voice ringing out as different pictures of a broken store front, scattered books, craters, and blood spatters revealed themselves in quick succession. 

“Here you are,” the bartender spoke, setting her cocktail on the bar in front of her. Thank god she could get one with alcohol in it, now that Ruby wasn’t with her. No point in setting a bad example for her baby sister. 

Ten minutes of enjoying the sun, breeze, and her drink later, she tossed a blue Lien card onto the bar, next to her emptied glass, and with a final comment and nod to the bartender (“Keep the change”), the blonde started walking towards O’Flanagan’s. Now, normally, she wouldn’t go to a casino, but she was running out of bars to ask around at. It was time to broaden her horizons, especially with Junior being useless in the information department. What’s the point in being an information broker if you can’t give information? With a quick glance at her scroll, noting the time (10:23 am), she began striding towards O’Flanagan’s. If she hurried, she could get there, ask around, and get back in time to catch the 11:30 Bullhead back to Beacon. An hour to do all that was manageable, especially if she was efficient.

Eight minutes of walking later, she stood outside the… casino. If it could even be called that. To be honest, she expected at least glass in the windows. From somewhere in the back, she heard soft jazz floating out, and from one of the boarded-up doorways, the clinking of chips as someone tossed them into a pile. Decrepit boards, worn away by time and insects, hung limply from the front of the establishment. As she watched, one swung down, falling to the ground, clattering as it connected with the (mostly) concrete sidewalk.

Steeling herself, she double checked her gauntlets, Ember Celica, pocketed her sunglasses, and strode forwards, pushing open the door, tense as could be. Immediately, her trained senses registered the location of the closest people, as well as the layout of the room. Directly in front of her was a desk, a man in a suit with shades sitting behind it, counting Lien cards. Behind him was a security “officer.” In all actuality, it was an average Joe with a standard fire-dust pistol holstered at his hip. Behind him, through the decaying wall, Yang could see the main room. Three tables arranged in a ‘V’ on the left, the point of the ‘V’ towards the center of the room. A single roulette table in the middle. On the right was a single Craps table, and along the right wall was a line of Slot machines. In total there were five patrons, eight employees, and four firearms.

The man behind the counter paused in his counting, before stashing the cards out of view, beneath the desk. He brought his hand back up, laced his fingers in front of him, and inclined his head slightly towards her in askance.

“You gonna stand there all day, girly? Or are you going to actually buy some chips?” He asked, dry as the most sought-after martini. 

“I’ll take 20,” Yang replied, eyeing the guards. One behind the desk, one near the cards tables, one in the far back, and one watching the Craps and Slots.

The man behind the desk snorted, before unlatching a case in one of the drawers. Pulling out five white and three red, he held out a hand, waiting for the Lien to be deposited.

Pulling out the required amount, she tossed over the two pink Lien cards, pausing when the man behind the counter laughed. 

“Blondie, if you want twenty chips, you gotta fork over fourty Lien. Operating costs, see? Plus a… tip, for the generous soul helping you obtain your chips,” he chortled, the guard behind him grinning as well.

Yang’s mood instantly dropped, her anger threatening to show itself.

“That’s highway robbery. I’ll give you thirty, but not a single Lien more,” she growled out. The nerve of this guy! Charging her double for chips.

The man pulled down his shades, staring at her incredulously. “Look, brat, I don’t know what you think it takes to run this fine of an establishment,” Yang snorted derisively, and the guard snickered as well, “but that’s far too low! I’ll take thirty-eight, and no less!”

“Thirty-two.”

“My kids could offer more, and they don’t even fucking exist! Thirty-seven.”

“Thirty-four, final offer. Or, I’ll just turn my pretty self back around and find a casino that doesn’t try to rip its customers off.”

The man gave it some thought, before grinning and, with a nod, extended his arm for a handshake.

Yang eyed it distrustfully, before shaking her head and giving the man a few pumps up and down. She made sure to grip it extra tight, too, just to give the man an idea of who he was dealing with.

The man kept a straight face, up until he heard several very important somethings in his hand make violent popping noises. With a strangled gasp, he wrenched his hand out of hers.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Yang grinned evilly at the man, before sweeping her chips off the desk, and striding towards one of two occupied areas. One, a lady, sat at the cards tables. At closer inspection, two tables were for Blackjack, and one was for Poker. Looked like Atlas-Hold-’Em. The woman was seated at the poker table, while the only other patron sat at the Roulette table. 

The woman wore a blue strapless dress, shiny heels glinting in the fluorescent lights. Flawless makeup greeted her as she strode over, taking the seat two to her right. While she waited for the round to finish, she took in the man sitting at the Roulette table. And, dust, was he huge. At least seven feet tall. Clad in a purple robe, white jacket sitting firmly on his shoulders, sleeves empty, the man stared sightlessly ahead, one hand clutching a cane, while the other sat protectively over his chips. Yang nearly did a double-take when she saw the amount sitting in front of him. He had at least at least three black, two green, and a pile of red and white. That was nearly four hundred Lien, just sitting there!

The man behind the roulette wheel was obviously distressed, constantly glancing at the ever-growing pile of chips as the man won yet another round. If this kept up he would be out of a job!

With a nervous gulp, he asked the man for his bet, to which the giant replied “Thirty on Red twenty-seven,” and then spun the wheel. After a second, he rolled the ball against the rotation, allowing it to bounce and spin.

Yang watched with interest, but just as the tender rolled the ball, the dealer at her table asked for her to ante up. Wrenching her attention away from the roulette table, she began betting and playing. Her first time gambling couldn’t end in failure! Uncle Qrow would never let her hear the end of it.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ten minutes and four hands later (and ten chips lighter!), she heard a commotion as a guard approached the roulette table.

“Hey, Bege, didn’t the guy call Red Seven?” The guard asked the staff member.

“He did,” the man (Now named Bege) replied, frantically making chopping motions across his neck.

“And ain’t that ball in Red Seven?” The guard asked Begeagain.

“Check again, man!” Bege laughed, nervous. “The ball is in Black Twenty-Seven.”

With a strange look, the guard opened his mouth once more, before Bege placed a finger over his lips, making a “shush”-ing gesture with his other.

With a strange look, the man acquiesced. This wouldn’t be the first time Bege had scammed someone, but it was the first time he had done it to someone with a disability. Something about it felt wrong, in a sense. With one final pitying glance at the blind man, the guard turned and returned to his post, folding his arms as he leaned against the decrepit wall.

Yang watched with mounting anger, before forcing herself to stay calm. Getting into a fight on a weekend was one thing. Getting into a fight with classes in less than two hours, however, was an entirely different beast.

This scenario played out several times over the next few minutes, with the man winning most of his guesses, and the guard telling him he lost every time. The blind man’s face became more and more distressed as the pile of chips in front of him began to shrink.

Trying to calm down, Yang reached into her pocket, pulling up the picture of Raven on her scroll. Turning back to her dealer, she showed him the scroll, asking him if he had seen the woman anywhere before.

When the man shook his head, her mood only worsened. So much time and Lien wasted, trying to find a woman who apparently didn’t fucking exist.

Yang was furious, and her mood was only incensed when she heard the staff member swindling the blind man again. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Yang approached the Roulette table, and by proxy, the giant in purple, clenching her fists as she got close. “What the hell is this about? This guy clearly won, give him the winnings!”

With a nervous glance, the tender laughed, then tried to bluff his way out. A poor idea, to say the least.

“Girly, why don’t you get your eyes checked? He called Red 23, and the ball is in Black 8.”

The poor man never even saw the haymaker coming.

With that single punch, all hell broke loose. The guard leaning against the wall snapped his hand to his waist, about to draw his pistol, but froze when Yang racked a new shell into the chamber of her now-expanded Ember Celica, aiming unerringly at the man’s head. 

“I would advise that you not move,” she growled out, eyes flashing from violet to red as she heard the men behind them begin to move to surround them. “That goes for you too!” she yelled over her shoulder, but was ignored. A firearm barked its respite, sending a round into her shoulder. Her aura flared, deflecting the bullet away, over her shoulder, and into the leg of the guard in front of her. He crumpled to the ground, clutching at his knee, where the projectile had landed.

Growling, she turned, allowing her other gauntlet to expand, and leapt at the three guards behind her. She froze in midair, when the giant clamped one enormous hand onto her shoulder.

“Please, there is no need for violence,” the man’s baritone rumbled out. The statement was clearly directed at both her and the guards, however the guards didn’t seem to take much notice.

“Hey, let go of me!” Yang yelled, trying to free herself so she could kick the crap out of these guys, or, at least, you know, dodge the bullets about to be sent her way.

The three guards in front of her levelled their pistols, before firing almost simultaneously. Before she (or the guards) could process what was happening, the giant had dropped her, drawn a sword from his cane, and blocked all three bullets with the flat of the blade. Yang recovered quickly enough, staggering to her feet, as the guards simply stared.

“Perhaps you did not hear me,” the giant spoke, voice lashing like thunder, sounding like an adult scolding misbehaving children. “I said, there is no need for violence.”

All the guards recovered as he spoke, blood draining from their faces, and they began firing as many bullets as they could. When their firearms clicked empty, however, they were horrified to see that both the giant and the violent blonde were still standing. More than that, neither were even injured. The man in purple had either deflected or cut all the bullets out of the air.

With a breathy sigh, the towering figure strode forwards, two-toothed Geta clicking against the ground as he began to slowly sheathe his sword.

“I tried, I really did. However, I do not think that you would allow me to cash in my winnings now, would you? I suppose I will have you all take a quick nap for me,” he said, disappointed, before beginning to slide the last six inches of his sword into the sheathe. With every centimeter that disappeared, the men felt their bodies become heavier, the air harder to draw in to breathe, until they were kneeling. 

“I do hope you can forget this unpleasantness ever happened,” the giant said, sounding almost… sorrowful. With that statement, he slid the last inch of his sword into the cane, obscuring the steel from view. As he did, the ground around the three men caved, shrieking as boards rubbed against each other, forcefully bending inside the well of gravity pulling them to the ground. As the click of his cane snapping shut echoed, the men collapsed, unconscious. One’s brain could only last for so long without blood.

The man then turned, addressing Yang, who was still trying to process what she was seeing. “Thank you for your assistance. While not entirely necessary, I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.”

The man then turned, strode back to the Roulette table, swept his chips into his large hands, before striding to the front desk, tossing the chips down.

“I’d like to cash my winnings, if possible,” he rumbled.

The man behind the desk squeaked, then stammered out “S-sure! Just a s-second, sir,” rushing to pull out the appropriate amount of Lien.

Handing over the stack of Lien cards, the blind man took them, thanked him, then turned and strode out of the casino.

Yang started, then rushed to grab her chips, cashed in as well, and ran out the door, trying to spot the towering man. It seemed she was too late, however, and the man was already gone by the time she got outside.

She would remember the giant in purple, however. She would have to ask around campus to see if anyone knew him; the man was obviously a huntsman. You would think that someone that distinctive would stand out in stories, but evidently not.

Deep in thought, she began walking back towards the Bullhead pad. With a quick glance at the time (11:15), she resolved to actually do research in the coming days. When she boarded the Bullhead, however, all thoughts of research were quickly banished in favour of thoughts of lunch.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Issho strode down the street, searching for a scroll shop that he could purchase a personal device for himself from. He had walked away from O’Flanagan’s 430 Lien richer, more than enough to buy himself a decent scroll. Tukson had told him that he could have an employee set it up so he could use it by simply speaking to it. 

The technology in this place was simply mind-boggling. Vegapunk would have a field day, were he here. He would find out more about where he was. There would be no ifs, ands, or buts. He refused to remain ignorant for any longer than was strictly necessary. He stopped in front of the scroll store, before nudging the door open, and he strode in with the chime of the door. He would learn as much as possible, as fast as he could.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Professor Ozpin stared at his terminal’s screen, disbelief flickering across his face as he registered what was happening. 

On the screen, the source of his disbelief continued to move, striking down Grimm with lethal, precise strikes, his sword flashing at speeds almost too fast to see. The figure, clad in all black, face obscured, wound up for one final strike, slicing through the veritable army of Grimm in front of them, into and beyond the trees behind them. Into the distance, a swath of trees fell, toppled by the figure’s mighty swing.

Glynda Goodwitch, his right-hand woman, stared in barely controlled shock over his shoulder as the figure sheathed his sword, then disappeared in a flicker of movement. Too fast for even the camera to capture for more than a few frames, the person disappeared from view, past all other cameras, Glynda struggling to keep up with its speed.

Within seconds, the figure had cleared the forest, darting into the city, where they could no longer track them. 

A single thought raced through both their minds: “What the hell just happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello all! To everyone new, welcome! To you returning readers, welcome back! 
> 
> Thank you all SO much for your continued support of this story! We broke a hundred follows! And Jesus, that’s way more than I thought I would ever get. To be honest, I only thought this would have twenty, maybe thirty if I was lucky. To know that this many people want to be updated regarding this story is mind-blowing. Thank you all so much!
> 
> Another note regarding Lien; for this story we will only deal with the Turquoise, Blue, Pink, and Yellow cards. They are worth (for this story) Ⱡ1, Ⱡ5, Ⱡ10, and Ⱡ25 respectively. Also, I realised I fucked up majorly. In my previous chapter (and this one as well), I stated that 1 Lien was 3.5 USD, however I then turned and made a phone 1400 Lien ($4900). I also made Issho earn $700 in 8 hours. That’s ridiculous. I got the conversions wrong (multiplied instead of divided), and just realized after I finished writing both chapters. So, for the remainder of this story, I will be fixing it so Lien to USD is properly calculated. I’ve just finished (2:20am, 7/21/2020) fixing the story so that all currency is (I think) correct. Thank you all so much for understanding my stupidity. 
> 
> In regards to the Haki Signatures that Issho felt, yes, that powerful and old one was Ozpin. However, I’d like to see if you all could guess who the others are! Also, does anyone have any ideas about who the stranger that Issho ran into outside the club was? I’m interested to hear your thoughts!
> 
> In regards to the casino O’Flanagan’s, this is a reference to the bar by the same name, from the movie “The Heat”, from 2013, starring Melissa McCarthy and Sandra Bullock. The line “It’s a little divy, you might wanna wear a vest” makes a cameo in this story as well, a quote from Captain Woods.
> 
> Sidenote, if anyone has any ideas where I came up with the name “Lehnsherr Island” from the first two chapters, let me know! This is a little less obvious than some of my other references.
> 
> Second sidenote, I’m not a huge fan of Mai Tais. I prefer neat Whiskey, Rum, or Bourbon. Not one for mixed drinks. However, my brother makes a mean cocktail, and I usually end up being his Guinea Pig for any first tries at drinks. While not my cup of Manhattan, (heheheh, get it? Cup of tea?) his Mai Tais are very good. I only made Yang drink a Strawberry Sunrise as it’s the only drink we’ve seen her order from a bar. At a later date I will eventually have her drink something more away from plot; I don’t want to copy-paste from RoosterTeeth’s story.
> 
> If anyone has any suggestions for the future of the story, please don’t hesitate to contact me via PM or review. Any future conflicts, meetings, encounters, fight scenes, or references, let me know and if it’s plausible and I feel it fits with the story I’ll try and write it in.
> 
> Also, please let me know if there are any grammatical errors, continuity issues, or debased sentences anywhere in the story.
> 
> As always, if the story is to your liking, consider dropping a favourite or follow if you want to be updated when anything changes with the story. Thank you for reading! See you all next week!
> 
> Songs listened to while writing:  
> “Heat Waves” by Glass Animals  
> “Gooey” by Glass Animals  
> “The Other Side of Paradise” by Glass Animals  
> “Life Itself” by Glass Animals  
> “Your Love (Deja Vu)” by Glass Animals  
> “Tokyo Drifting” by Glass Animals ft. Denzel Curry  
> “Hazey” by Glass Animals  
> “Poplar Street” by Glass Animals  
> “Youth” by Glass Animals  
> “Toes” by Glass Animals  
> “Season 2, Episode 3” by Glass Animals  
> “Dreamland” by Glass Animals  
> “Black Mambo” by Glass Animals  
> “Pork Soda” by Glass Animals  
> “The Trip” by Glass Animals  
> “Agnes” by Glass Animals  
> “Pools” by Glass Animals  
> “Cane Shuga” by Glass Animals  
> “Take a Slice” by Glass Animals  
> “Cocoa Hooves” by Glass Animals  
> and FaceTiming my Co-Author
> 
> As you can tell, I’m in a Glass Animals kind of mood
> 
> Total Wordcount: 7341  
> Wordcount without A/N: 6591


	5. Chapter 4 - The Anomaly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has a Discord! (discord (dot) gg (slash) HTmGeTj) Thanks, AO3, for not publishing the full link. That’s just fantastic.
> 
> A/N at the end of chapter, but just a note: this chapter is about a thousand words shorter than I would have liked: I’ll make it up to you in the next chapter though. I hope. Anyways, on with the story!

The isle of Marineford was a stronghold of a gargantuan scale. A bastion of Justice, Truth, and Righteousness, its reach extending across the entire world. Or so the Marines of the World Government would have everyone believe. Populated by the very strongest of the Marines, the cream of the crop, these men and women were the very best the world could offer.

Each and every one was an expert in their field, monsters on the battlefield, the most unshakeable of statues. The air over Marineford was always calm, the professionalism that everyone exuded, from the lowest of janitors, to the Fleet Admiral himself, kept the aura of the island professional.

It was, on this particular day, now a place of chaos. The once-calm air surrounding the fortress was shattered, replaced by scurrying secretaries, papers flying, and roaring arguments.

Vice-Admirals shouted orders, directing the chaos unfolding as the entirety of normal operations ceased. The intelligence and communications wing was overpopulated, transponder snails overworked, and the ambient temperature was at least twenty degrees too high, courtesy of the resident fleet admiral.

The reason for this chaos? One of the strongest people in the entirety of the marines, Admiral Fujitora, had disappeared from the face of the world. It would not be such an issue if the man had lost a fight, nor if he had disappeared for a few days following his incident on Lehnsherr Island. 

No, the issue was the multitude of eyewitness reports stating that the man had quite literally vanished, removed from existence by a coalition of the Z Pirates, Trafalgar Law, and one of the Jinchuriki. If they could eliminate an Admiral without sustaining even a single casualty, then there was no telling what havoc they could wreak.

Amongst the shouts filling the air, one voice dominated the rest, ripping itself from the mouth and lungs of the most powerful man on the island. Fleet Admiral Sakazuki was apocalyptically furious. He had hand-picked the man, and his disappearance for well over a week now was disastrous. 

The living volcano wirled upon the nearest secretary, pulling him close whilst roaring a single line at him, every word promising death should he be disappointed.

“I don’t care if you have to go down and fucking parley with those pirates, find out where he WENT!”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

But for every face of a coin, there was also a flip side. This flip side just so happened to be the complete and polar opposite of the chaos that was unfolding at Marineford. 

In stark contrast to the chaos was the ever-elusive Admiral Fujitora. What nefarious plot could he be thwarting? What despicable, vile creature was he battling so intently that it would cause him to fail to report in for over a week?

The giant admiral glared sightlessly at the ground, anger pouring from every facet of his being.

Oum above, what horror could possibly have occupied his attention so thoroughly?

What could make a man capable of levelling mountains so furious?

The answer stared back up, insignificant in its existence.

The ice cream sat on the pavement, melting slowly in the heat of the day. In Issho’s hand, the now-empty cone was almost vaporized as his hand clenched.

His melted dream in front of him taunted him, glistening in the sun. 

The powerhouse sighed, calming himself, before turning and walking from his melting hopes, sweltering under the sun. It was time to do some research with his new scroll.

On the bright side, Tukson would be released from the hospital in the coming days, barring any unexpected stress or complications. Of course, that also meant that Issho would have to do all his research before the man was returned to his home, as once the man got back Fujitora could not speak so freely. One of the downsides of having to speak to one’s scroll, he supposed.

Mourning his lost ice cream, he opened the door to the apartment, before settling to rest on the couch and pulling out his brand new scroll and turning it on.

It was strange, he mused, to be able to speak and converse with an inanimate object. Even stranger, the device possessed more intelligence than he suspected many of those on the Grand Line did.

Feeling rather foolish, he spoke.

“Vega, open browser,” he said.

Yes he had named the scroll after Vegapunk, and no, he would never ever mention it to the man or anyone even possibly associated with him. The reason for this was very simple: he liked living, thank you very much. There were only a few things that terrified the admiral.

One was the wrath of Vice-Admiral Tsuru if someone mentioned her and the word “old” in the same sentence as her name. She had almost developed a sixth-sense for detecting it, even from across an entire island. The last poor sap to do so was still flapping in the wind. He had made his mistake almost a year ago.

A second was corruption. It was why he blinded himself, after all. The world was a horrible place, and losing his sight didn’t actually help as much as one would think when trying to avoid corruption. Hindsight (or Hindsense, in his case), was twenty-twenty.

A third was Vegapunk if anyone tried to give him a pet name. There had been only one man foolish enough to do so. His brain was all that remained, and it was transplanted onto the dog that Vegapunk used to fetch his shoes. A terrible fate, and the fact that Vegapunk wouldn’t hesitate to do much worse to him if he found out was a sobering thought. Well, he always did like to live on the edge.

Sighing as he settled himself into the couch, propping his cane against the cushions, he resigned himself to a long and boring day of research. 

Little did the titan know of the shock that awaited him in the coming hours.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was strange, Ozpin thought, how often people underestimated him. He was the strongest being on the planet, with the possible exception of Salem. He had one of the most impressive intelligence networks in the world, and fought in an unending battle against his former wife. He was immortal, experienced, and commanded and trained the future protectors of humanity.

So it was quite odd that twice in two months he had received fake transcripts. Now, technically, he hadn’t received anything, as such. No, he had been… browsing… the kingdom’s registry, and something had come up on his custom forgery-detection software. The software only alerted him to conspicuous files, and so he would have to manually check any himself, to see if they were actually forgery. The file was as bare-bones as could be, and only contained the most basic of information. The clanking of the many, many clocks in his office soothed him as he studied the file. 

Kingdom of Vale’s Citizen’s Profile  
Name: Issho Ramierez  
Sex: M  
Height: 8’10  
Age: 54  
Education: Error  
Place of Birth: Error  
Date of Birth: Error  
Date ID issued: Not Issued  
Citizen since: N/A  
Income: N/A  
Employed At: Tukson’s Book Trade  
Scroll Number: N/A

Extra Information:  
Note from VCR (Vale Citizen Registry): Blind, accommodations to be made possible if needed, upon request.

Aside from the most basic of information, several problems caught his attention. There were only five solid pieces of information. The rest, all the other important pieces, were missing. Either Errors, or simply not filled in. This almost always indicated that the registration was forged. Normally, Ozpin wouldn’t bother with such a thing, as forged papers were rather commonplace.

However, this case was special. For the wizened old man knew for a fact that the man was the one to foil the assassination attempt at Tukson’s Book Trade. Aside from being listed as his place of work (and the store only having two employees, one of which was the assassination target), the owner, Tukson, had verified that he was defended by the man in the police report made after he awoke. Someone able to stop two aggressors, while blind, was impressive, especially if they hadn’t been to a combat school. 

The day that the robbery had come across his desk, Ozpin had immediately taken an interest. While he had blind students before, they were few and far between. In all his years as Beacon’s headmaster, there were only three that were afflicted as such. One of these was still currently attending, a young man named Fox Alistair, member of Team CFVY. The previous, a male dropout by the name of Lucius Best. The huntsman's life did not agree with him. The very first was a young man named Simon Paladino. A shame he was killed in action only three years after graduating.

Shaking himself from his reverie, Ozpin studied the document once more, but froze as the file updated with a “Ping!” At the bottom, a contact number for a scroll became available, citing it as a personal communications model. Sipping his Cocoa, Ozpin noted the number, before sitting back in his plush chair and sending a quick message to Glynda. They would have to see about contacting the man, and perhaps asking some questions that would shed light on just where he got his experience.

A chat over coffee (or in Ozpin’s case, Hot Cocoa) should do nicely. Nothing like a hot drink during the hottest part of the year!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Meanwhile, one specific owner of Vale’s premier nightclub/bar, Hei “Junior” Xiong, was sweating. Bad enough that yesterday had ended with a man capable of levelling the place, but today he couldn’t even catch a break. Something, or someone, had scared two of his grunts shitless.

“What are you two idiots doing?!” the man asked, getting a shouted response from one of the two guards. 

“Boss, she’s -” was as far as the poor man got, before the doors that he was holding closed were blown open. Through the smoke strode the last thing Junior wanted to see.

“Guess who’s back?” The Yellow Devil asked, cheery as could be despite the multitude of guns suddenly pointed at her not three feet from her face.

Behind the barwrecker came another, a blue-haired kid wearing a red jacket. Great, the devil has friends, indeed.

“Soo, could you define ‘friend’ for me, Yang?” the kid asked. “This doesn’t seem very… well… friendly.” Give the kid a fucking medal. Who was he, Sherlock?

Shaking himself from his observations, he waded through his underlings, shouting at them. 

“Stop, stop! Nobody shoot. I don’t need my bar wrecked again,” Junior yelled out, bitter at his last altercation with the fiery blonde. 

“Blondie! You’re here!” He then dropped his faux enthusiasm. “Why?”

Grabbing his arm, the devil dragged him towards the bar. “You still owe me a drink!”

In the background, he could hear the twins snubbing the boy. Poor kid, barely even got a sentence out. He was then rather occupied with convincing Blondie that no, he did not know where Torchwick was. The last time he had seen him was yesterday, before the giant came in. 

When he told her as such, she perked up. What did he say? Blondie’s attention was not something he wanted at the moment.

“Wait a minute, Junior,” the hothead said.

“What,” he responded, with the most deadpan gaze he could muster.

“You said ‘giant’, right?”

“I did.”

“Describe him,” Yang said.

“Look, blondie, I don’t know what to tell you. The man was probably eight and a half feet tall, blind, wore a purple robe, and could have flattened this building without breaking a sweat. If you’re thinking about tracking him down, I’d say let it go,” the information broker said, still a bit shaken by his experience. And while yes, the girl in front of him had caused him damage, and more importantly, money, he didn’t want her dead or anything. Maybe.

He could be persuaded either way, to be honest.

The girl could knock him around as much as she liked (it wasn’t as though he could fight back), but that guy? He was capable of so much more than even a Xiao-Long could dream of. Even their brief interaction had him shaking more than Blondie ever did.

“What’s going on?” The kid was back, blue hair swaying from how fast he had moved to get next to Yang.

“Nothing, Neptune, just asking Junior about a guy I met yesterday,” she replied.

“Wait a minute. Yesterday?” Raced through Junior’s head.

With a cough to reclaim the walking disaster’s attention, he spoke. “You met him yesterday? Wouldn’t have happened to have been down at O’Flanagan’s, would it?”

“Yeah… it was…” her glare intensified. “How’d you know he was there? And what else do you know about him?”

As she spoke, one hand raised up, resting itself on the counter top. To anyone else, it would have been a fairly innocent gesture, but the bearded man knew that it was simply her making it easier for a quick grab if she didn’t like his answer.

“Calm down,” he said, and received a glare in response. “If you need to know, he came in yesterday, bought a drink, like a normal person,” here he glared at her, accusatory. With a sigh, he continued, dropping his brief glare. “Asked for information, paid for it, and his drink,” another, darker glare was levelled at the unrepentant blonde. “Then thanked me, and left like a. Normal. Person,” the glare was now matching what Miltia and Melanie could put out if someone kept hitting on them.

“Why do I feel like he’s talking to me?” Blondie whispered to blue-hair.

“Because I am!” Junior roared.

With another deadpan glare, she returned fire. “Watch your tone, unless you want a repeat performance,” the devil spat, cracking her knuckles for good measure.

“Whoah, no need for that! That’s all I know about the guy, I swear!” Junior was startled. No, he was not panicking, thank you very much! He just had a very healthy aversion to crazy. 

“Then tell me where Torchwick went!” She spat.

“Are you really this guy’s friend?” Neptune, blessed be the foolish boy, aked, unaware of the danger he was in.

The poor boy didn’t receive an answer, though, just getting a dismissive wave from Yang and a “Really?” look from Junior.

“I don’t know!”

“How can you not know? Did you or did you not deal with him?” Blondie asked.

“I. Don’t. Know,” Junior growled out, patience wearing thin. “I lent him my men, and none of them ever came back. Do you want me to ask the space they once occupied where they are? Hate to break it to you, but that won’t get you answers.”

“Where did they go?” Blue-hair butted in again.

“What kind of stupid question is that? What part of ‘never came back’ did you fail to grasp? Wait, who the hell even are you?” Perhaps he was a bit too harsh on that grunt from yesterday. Obviously there were more foolish people out there.

“Don’t worry about him,” Oh great, the devil kept tormenting him. “Worry about what I’m going to do to you if I don’t get my answers!”

“Am I speaking fucking Pig-Remneese? What part of ‘didn’t come back’ failed to stick in those two neurons you call a brain?! Torchwick took my men, and I guess he wasn’t pleased with them. Which is something I can relate to!” The last part was directed at his men, milling around and generally looking anywhere but at him. Okay, now he was tempting fate.

And his theory was confirmed as the girl’s eyes flashed red, before she took a steadying breath and stepped back.

“Forget it. Let’s-” was as far as she got before they heard screaming from the street, as well as the rhythmical THUMP THUMP THUMP of something giant and heavy running by. With it came the ringing of a scroll. Blondie whipped it out, took one look with wide eyes, and immediately grabbed blue-hair and sprinted out the door.

Junior decided to not question his good fortune, and simply sighed as he bid good riddance to the annoyances.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Meanwhile, in a certain apartment in a specific part of Vale, one specific man took a few deep breaths. His heart rate was elevated, his palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy. His scroll slipped through numb fingers, thumping onto the carpeted floor. He moved on autopilot. Grabbing a makeshift disguise (not his fault the curtains were exactly his size), he nearly ran out of the apartment, before snapping into a shave and searching for a place to vent. It would need to be suitably far from any civilization.

It would not do to have a repeat performance of Punk Hazard.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Minutes Later

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Glynda Goodwitch was worried. To the untrained eye, she might appear unconcerned, but to those that knew her well, she had her tells. Her hand was gripping her riding crop with more force than necessary, her eyes were narrowed slightly more than usual, and her heels clicked off the ground with just a bit too much force. 

She was not worried about anything asinine such as her student’s squabbles, nor the state of an unused classroom after two upperclassmen had taken... liberties in it, nor that their Cocoa supply was running dangerously (not the word she would have chosen) low. No, it was the alerts that had appeared on her tablet, warning of a humanoid in the Emerald Forest. 

While students did sometimes venture into the forest to practice their combat skills, these happenings were few and far between. Partly because of the danger, but mostly due to Glynda’s wrath if she caught students breaking one of the most important rules at Beacon. That rule being that any Grimm-heavy areas were off-limits unless on a sanctioned mission or escorted by a professor.

This, however, was no student. Stepping into the elevator to the Headmaster’s office, she prepared to show him just what had captured her attention so severely. Preparing her tablet, bringing up camera feeds, she waited for the tell-tale ding that signalled the elevator’s ascent had finished.

Striding out, she pretended not to notice the way the headmaster was… disheveled. Nor the way the papers on his desk fluttered, indicating quick and recent movement from the window to his seat. Nor the way his hand trembled as he filled in his signature rather hastily on the forms she had left him the hour previous.

Sending a quick glare that showed she wasn’t fooled, she instead opted to speak.

“We have an issue,” She said. No one could say she made chit-chat.

“And what, Glynda, would that issue be?” Ozpin replied. He then froze. “Don’t tell me…” 

A horrified look crossed his face, eyes widening, mouth going slightly ajar, and he froze, pen slipping from slack fingers.

“We’re out of Hot Cocoa?” He whispered, terrified. “Oh, this is horrible, I have to go order more, is the Mistralian Blend too costly? No, I can cut the budget, we don’t need medical support that much, and my Cocoa is much more import-”

“No, we are not out of Hot Cocoa. Yes, that blend is far too costly. And no, we need medical support, or must I remind you that this is a school where we regularly have fights between teenagers that result in unconsciousness? Calm down,” Her reply was dry, and her glare withering. “The issue is more that someone is currently out in the middle of the Emerald Forest, fighting Grimm. While normally I would send a professor or their teammates, this person is not currently enrolled at Beacon.”

“What makes you say that?” The Headmaster replied, clutching his chest dramatically as though suffering from cardiac arrest. 

With one last withering look, the deputy-headmistress pressed a few buttons on her screen, bringing up a live feed of the forest as she spoke. “While he has yet to encounter Grimm, the man seems to be without care, and walking through Grimm-infested… woods… is…” she trailed off as she noticed the Headmaster’s expression. Striding to stand behind him, she froze.

Professor Ozpin stared at his terminal’s screen, disbelief flickering across his face as he registered what was happening. 

On the screen, the source of his disbelief continued to move, striking down Grimm with lethal, precise strikes, his sword flashing at speeds almost too fast to see. The figure, clad in all black, face obscured, wound up for one final strike, slicing through the veritable army of Grimm in front of them, into and beyond the trees behind them. Into the distance, a swath of trees fell, toppled by the figure’s mighty swing.

Glynda Goodwitch, his right-hand woman, stared in barely controlled shock over his shoulder as the figure sheathed his sword, then disappeared in a flicker of movement. Too fast for even the camera to capture for more than a few frames, the person disappeared from view, past all other cameras, Glynda struggling to keep up with its speed.

Within seconds, the figure had cleared the forest, darting into the city, where they could no longer track them. 

A single thought raced through both their minds: “What the hell just happened?”

Two sharp clicks rang out as the Headmaster and his deputy snapped their jaws shut.

“Are you sure that we do not know who this was? This display seems a bit much for even our most advanced students. Check the huntsmen and huntresses currently in Vale. We will need to have a chat about encroaching on Beacon’s grounds without notifying us beforehand,” Ozpin spoke, face chiseled into an expression normally reserved for the Council or when someone suggested that Hot Cocoa was not a year-round drink.

“I certainly don’t recognize their fighting style, and their speed would indicate a semblance of some kind. I’ll run a search immediately,” the deputy responded, tapping away at her pad with ferocity.

“Thank you, Glynda,” Ozpin said, leaning back in his chair to gaze up at the gears turning above his head.

“It’s no issue at all, headmaster. I’ll notify you if I find anything,” Glynda replied, turning and retreating towards the elevator.

Ozpin did not reply, choosing instead to allow a victorious smirk to cross his face, confident that Glynda had forgotten something important that he would rather avoid.

“And don’t forget about those forms!” She called over her shoulder, not looking up from her pad.

“How does she do that?” Ozpin whispered under his breath.

Glynda chose not to respond, instead focusing on her pad, still furiously tapping away.

With one last forlorn look at the window, Ozpin picked up his pen from where it fell, resigning himself to a long evening of document-signing, but both knew their minds would remain on this mysterious figure.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Halfway across Vale, a certain Admiral sneezed, getting a sense of someone being forced to do paperwork, as he so often was. Sakazuki - sorry, the Fleet Admiral didn’t consider his blindness to be a reasonable excuse to not sign off on documents. 

He then continued unwrapping himself from the curtains, deciding to apologize to Tukson at a later date for their unusual use, and hung them up once more.

While unorthodox, his method of stress relief was tried, true, and proven. Even now, he was feeling much better, though he would need more than a few strong drinks to ease his pain. He could figure out the specifics of his situation later.

Thoughts on strong spirits, he headed for the place that he had received such a wonderful drink previously, as well as important information. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Across Vale, in a specific club, Junior shivered as he served drinks to customers. His day was not going swimmingly. Aside from the whole being threatened by Blondie, he was in the red, his men kept getting snatched by Torchwick, and no one could find hide nor hair of that giant. How could a man so conspicuous not turn up any information? He couldn’t have popped out of thin air. He was half expecting the man to drop in again, just to make his day worse.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ten Minutes Later

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Well, he just had to tempt fate, didn’t he? He was just being the universe’s punching bag today. Here he thought he might have a normal night, but then in strode gigantor. The man didn’t even hesitate, he busted the door open with a single hand outstretched, strode directly to the bar, just about threw himself into a stool, and then turned to Junior, waving him down. The fact that Hei was halfway down the bar didn’t seem to phase him as much as being blind should.

Apprehensive, the broker approached, still wary of the man.

“Get me the strongest drink you carry,” the man rumbled out, throwing ten Lien onto the counter. “I’ve had a very bad day, and need something to help me on the way to tomorrow,” he said by way of explanation, lowering his head as though some great weight pressed down upon him. 

The man’s haggard expression told the whole story, so Junior swept the Lien cards off the table, and then went to fix the strongest drink he could. He’d have to break out the special stock for this, but if it kept the man from ruining his building, he’d survive.

After a few minutes of mixing standard spirits, he reached under the bar, pressed a button, and a panel of the floor opened with a pop. Pulling the panel up and away, he pulled out a bottle with a label reading “Grimm Spring Grain Alcohol” with a smaller label underneath reading “190 Proof.”

Spinning the cap off, he poured a shot into the drink, before resealing the bottle and stowing it away once again, closing the panel after it. Setting it on the bar with a clink, he spoke to the man, trying desperately to keep the tremors out of his voice.

“What brings you back here, and with a need for such a drink, no less?” Junior asked.

The man chose not to respond for a moment, instead taking a long draught of his drink. When he did speak, he sounded… tired.

“What would you do, bartender, if you found that everyone you knew and loved, everything you ever fought for, everything you loved, was taken from you? That you were the only one left? That all you had fought for had fallen?”

Junior’s eyes snapped wide, regarding the man in front of him with more scrutiny.

“Those are heavy questions. There a reason you’re asking them?” He asked, allowing a bit of concern to trickle into his voice. He couldn’t disguise his shaking hands completely, though.

Even through his sorrow, Issho managed to maintain the best of his cover as possible. He couldn’t mention that he was… not exactly from around these parts, nor could he mention any powers, names, or the reality of his situation. He would have to use the Grimm as a scapegoat. 

“I have just found out that my hometown, Lehnsherr Port, has fallen. The Grimm overran it, and I-” here, he allowed his voice to crack slightly. “I am the only one remaining. I was the only one to leave in generations, and now…”

Junior’s eyes widened. No wonder the man needed a drink.

“I- Oum, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Drinks are on the house for tonight. Don’t overdo it, though,” the information broker said, tossing the man’s Lien back to him. “I don’t think I could lift you if I tried.”

Unerringly, the giant caught it. Hei wasn’t going to rob him blind, not when the man had just found out news like that. Despite what some certain Blondes may think, he wasn’t heartless. As the night progressed, the man became slowly, infinitesimally more cheerful, not allowing the news to get to him here, allowing his sorrows to slip away in some capacity as he imbibed drink after drink.

It was almost enough to make Junior forget the unimaginable power residing just a few feet away.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was with a heavy heart that Issho left the bar, only slightly inebriated. From his time thinking, there were only three explanations for his situation. 

One was that he was under the influence of a Devil Fruit, driven to madness or trapped in an illusion. However, he had never heard of a Fruit with such in-depth control, nor the power required to maintain an illusion for so many days.

A second was that he was dead, however, he doubted the afterlife was as such as the world he was currently residing in. Too much conflict, despair, death... you couldn’t die if you were already dead, right?

The final was that, somehow, illogically, impossibly, he was now in a world no longer his own. He could not find mention of the Grand Line, Red Line, the Marines, World Government, Celestial Dragons, Mariejois, the Blues, Fishmen, Sea Kings, Devil Fruits, anything. Instead, people possessed Semblances, their Aura acting a shield, fighting against creatures he had never heard of before. They had Faunus instead of Fishmen. Their lands were enormous, and there was so much more earth than there was in his home. The Seas did not divide the lands into chunks or islands, instead creating massive tracts of land hundred, sometimes thousands of leagues wide.

Mentally reviewing what he knew, he discarded the second theory; if this was the afterlife, there was a lot left to be desired.

In addition, the whole “dying” thing was still around, which was a point against the afterlife. It was (much as he loathed to admit it) more likely that he was under the influence of a Devil Fruit, or impossibly, in another dimension, universe, reality, whatever you want to call it. He would have to explore the Devil Fruit possibility first before ruling it out.

There were, now that he thought about it, issues with that theory as well. How could they perfectly replicate his perception of the world? More than that, how did they replicate the effects of his powers, like when he had the scuffle in O’Flanagan’s, or against Tukson’s assassins.

In addition, why would someone be trapping him in a Devil Fruit’s powers? Information? He was fully lucid, and if he was in a coma of some sort then they wouldn’t be able to extract information. In addition, what was the point in wasting information if he was simply being kept alive? That would be a strain on their resources, unless they needed him for something.

He knew for a fact it couldn’t be Blackbeard and his Yami Yami no Mi, Law would never condone such a thing. Neither would Ain, however Pendrag was a wild card in this scenario.

Assuming he was, in fact, not in a coma, asleep, or dead, that left very few options. And those remaining terrified him.

If that turned out to be the reality of his situation, well… Issho didn’t want to think about that yet.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ozpin leaned forwards, onto his cane, towards the towering man.

“What, exactly, do you mean by that?”

Issho snorted, gripping his own cane tightly. His sightless eyes bored deep into the far-too-old ones of Beacon’s leader.

“Do not play the part of the fool, Headmaster,” he said derisively. “You cannot deceive me with honeyed words.”

The cane in Ozpin’s hands began to creak ominously, and the air became charged with power.

“Would you care to provide me with an explanation?” The Headmaster said, a fake saccharine smile plastered on his face, as still as though it was chiseled from stone.

“It’s quite simple, really…”

And Issho sealed his fate.

“Coffee is simply superior to Hot Cocoa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello all! To everyone new, welcome! To you returning readers, welcome back! Thank you all for your continued support! We’ve hit a hundred favourites (which is mind-boggling, by the way), and we’ve already smashed well over a hundred follows! You all are amazing!
> 
> Not too much happened in this chapter, mainly lore-building and Issho beginning to realize that getting home might not be so simple. That preview is more comedic, as I love writing a comedic Ozpin. I absolutely love making responsible characters a bit more carefree - it makes them so much more human. That’s why characters like Luffy, Aokiji, and Garp seem so appealing. 
> 
> I’m sorry if the writing isn’t up to par; I’ve had some writers block - nervousness about what’s happening in the coming days and college is creeping up on me.
> 
> Also, despite popular belief, Ozpin drinks Hot Cocoa, not coffee. This is not conjecture, rather, it is a direct quote from Gray G. Haddock. If you don’t recognize the name, he is RoosterTeeth’s head of animation, and the person directly responsible for the majority of Ozpin’s design. He debunked the idea during an interview, when Shannon McCormick (Ozpin’s voice actor) said that Ozpin “takes his coffee black” as there is no cream or sugar around when he pours a cup. However, this is false, as Ozpin is confirmed by RoosterTeeth’s head of animation to drink Hot Cocoa. Thanks, Haddock! He would know!
> 
> References!  
> The line “Am I speaking fucking Pig-Remneese” is another reference to The Heat (2013), a quote from Michael Mullins when questioning Ashburn about whether or not she’s a Narc. The exact quote is “Am I speaking fuckin’ Japanese?” but Remnant (obviously) doesn’t have Japan, and therefore no Japanese. I decided to make the official language Remneese (fucking creative, I know), as there is no England for English to exist, nor Italy for Latin (pig-latin).  
> Similarly, the line “How does she do that?” is a reference to Muppet Treasure Island (1986), when Mrs. Bulveridge displays an uncanny ability to hear when “the boys” (Gonzo, Rizzo, and Jim Hawkins) are causing trouble. Most notably when Billy Bones demands Rum, when Bulveridge is upstairs in bed, and Jim replies with “Only a small glass”; Bulveridge shouts from upstairs “Don’t be givin’ him anymore rum!” to which Bones asks “How does she bloody do that?”  
> When referencing how Issho’s “palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy”, this is a well-known reference to Eminem’s hit song, “Lose Yourself”  
> Reader Interaction Time!  
> Does anyone know where I got the names for the previous blind students? A hint: they come from a movie that steals all the James Bond. (CinemaSins, anyone?) If you don’t watch CinemaSins, another hint is the line “What are you waiting for, kid?” followed by “I don’t know, something amazing, I guess…”. The interaction is finished with “Me too kid… me too.”
> 
> If anyone has any suggestions for the future of the story, please don’t hesitate to contact me via PM, Discord Message, or review. Any future conflicts, meetings, encounters, fight scenes, or references, let me know and if it’s plausible and I feel it fits with the story I’ll try and write it in.
> 
> Also, please let me know if there are any grammatical errors, continuity issues, or debased sentences anywhere in the story.
> 
> A quick note! In two and a half weeks I will be moving to college, so I may miss a chapter or two, but fret not, dear reader! I will do my best to keep up with my updates, but I just wanted to let you all know in advance, just in case I can’t make my deadlines for a while. Thank you all for understanding.
> 
> Also also, in two days I will be getting all of my Wisdom Teeth removed, which may knock me out of commission for a few days. For this reason, I may have to delay the next chapter a few days so I can recover. Never had surgery before by the way, so wish me luck! I’m very nervous.
> 
> As always, if the story is to your liking, consider dropping a favourite, or follow if you want to be updated when anything changes with the story. Thank you for reading! See you all next week!
> 
> Songs listened to while writing:  
> “The Wolf” by SIAMES  
> “Mr. Fear” by SIAMES  
> “The Other Side Of Paradise” by Glass Animals  
> “Lone Digger” by Caravan Palace  
> “No Lullaby” by SIAMES  
> “I Can’t Wait” by SIAMES  
> “JT” by Jon Bellion  
> “Hand of God” by Jon Bellion  
> “Guillotine” by Jon Bellion  
> “The Good in Me” by Jon Bellion  
> “Dancing in the Moonlight (Johnny Lectro Remix)” by King Harvest  
> “Rock it for Me” by Caravan Palace  
> “About You” by Caravan Palace ft. Charles X  
> “Dangerous” by Big Data ft. Joywave  
> “No Honey” by SIAMES  
> and FaceTiming my Co-Author
> 
> Total Wordcount: 6347  
> Wordcount without A/N: 5286


	6. Chapter 5 - The Shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has a Discord! (discord (dot) gg (slash) HTmGeTj) Thanks, AO3, for not publishing the full link. That’s just fantastic.
> 
> A/N at the end of chapter

Across the campus of Beacon, the sun shone. In bright rays it struck the ground, reflecting and bouncing across trees, buildings, windows, weapons, and flagstones. Cool wind, courtesy of the school’s elevation, whipped any exposed hair or leaves into a frenzy, tossing any loose items around as a mischievous prankster might with baubles. The chatter of blissful students filled the air, and peals of laughter could be heard from anywhere on the grounds.

In the gardens, students studied or read, enjoying the sunshine and beautiful weather, while in the courtyards, others took time to relax, bond with their teams, or even take their trays of food out and simply unwind. The Vytal Festival weighed heavily on all, even if they pretended to be above such things.

Normally, such a beautiful day would be taken advantage of by everyone, students and staff included, but on this particular day, both the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress could not bring themselves to enjoy the sunshine. The matter pressing them was immense. Far below the Headmaster’s office, deep in a secret chamber, one not recorded anywhere on paper or computer, a young woman slumbered. Her once-dark face stared out from the glass covering of the machine she resided in. Tubes, wires, and valves protruded at all angles from the back of the machine, disappearing up into the darkness of the rafters.

Before the now-pale girl stood the Headmaster, Ozpin, and his Deputy, Glynda. Both were deep in concentration, their countenances drawn and firm. With a deep sigh, Ozpin strode forwards, placing a hand upon the glass of the machine, then spoke.

“I do not know how much longer she can last. Salem’s power leeches on her, and I fear that soon, the strain will grow to be too much for her to bear. I cannot imagine what her assassin would be able to accomplish with the remaining half of her power,” he said, voice grave.

With a worried look towards the machine, Glynda responded.

“You have been searching for a replacement, then?” her query hung in the dark air of the chamber, unanswered for several long moments.

“I have, though it was not my wish… I would not wish to burden any of our students with such a power, nor the responsibilities that come hand-in-hand with it,” he replied, voice unsteady. His eyes were obscured by his glasses reflecting the gaunt profile of the girl in the machine. With a nearly inaudible sigh, he allowed his hand to slip from the machine, before whispering a plea into the air. “Forgive me, Amber.”

With a worried stare, Glynda strode forwards, placing one hand on his shoulder and steering him back towards the elevator opposite the lifeless girl.

“We have done all we can. Whether or not she recovers is beyond our control now. Perhaps something to take your mind off of this would be beneficial. Take a break. I won’t hold it against you… this time,” she whispered out.

With a slightly more bright expression, Ozpin allowed a small smirk to cross his face as he stepped into the elevator, side by side with one of his most trusted companions.

“I think I have the perfect distraction in mind. I believe it’s time for a chat with one Mr. Ramierez,” Ozpin said, voice slowly steadying. “We can forget about Amber’s predicament for today. Let’s take advantage of the day, hm?”

With a nearly unnoticeable smile, Glynda nodded as the elevator door closed, once more shrouding the chamber beneath the school in darkness.

From out of the darkness, a single, faint, almost invisible light pulsed. If one were to look closely, they would find that it originated from the comatose girl’s heart. Previously unseen in the ambient light, the pitch darkness of the chamber allowed the light to shine. In time with the girl’s pulse, it waxed and waned in tandem with her life’s energy, desperately attempting to catch someone, anyone’s attention.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After many, many hours of deep thought, consideration, and deliberation, Issho had come to a single, startling conclusion. This conclusion was simple in its function, but no less potent for it. This thought was one that circled the displaced Admiral’s skull, flitting through his thoughts almost constantly.

“The universe hates me. I’m sure of it.” 

And perhaps this was the case, however, it was not brought on by the factors that one might expect. It was instead the culmination of the week or so that Issho had experienced last. From his loss on Lehnsherr Island, to his… relocation, to Tukson’s attempted assassination, to his poor poor ice cream. It seemed that the Universe was determined to make his life a living hell. 

Wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, courtesy of his lost ice cream, he straightened as he felt his scroll vibrate in his robe.

Reaching into the swaths of fabric, he extracted the scroll from his robe, the small device encased in his palm. As he opened his hand, he heard Vega’s false voice speak out. Not that it was Vegapunk’s voice, mind, but rather the woman’s voice that was pre-recorded to form sentences.

“Incoming call from… Beacon Academy.” Frowning, he thumbed the main button and spoke to Vega once more.

“Accept Call,” Issho said, running through the possible reasons that Beacon would be calling him. In his research yesterday, he had learned much about the system that this world employed for training their future generations of combatants. One tidbit of information was that in Vale, the huntsmen were the sole line of defense against the creatures of Grimm. Aside from Issho’s… excursion… yesterday, he had no experience with the beasts. How could he? They didn’t exist to him but a week ago.

His scroll clicked once, signalling that the call had connected. Shortly after, a female voice spoke out, crisp, clean, and stern. It reminded Issho of his personal secretary, Lieutenant Zott. Momonga never had quite forgiven him for stealing his personal busybody. Shaking his head as the woman spoke, he focused on his scroll once more.

“Good afternoon, this is Professor Goodwitch of Beacon Academy, calling for one Issho Ramierez,” the voice said.

Focusing on the scroll, he spoke. He still felt a bit odd about speaking to what was essentially a glorified piece of metal, but he could at least relate this specific function of the scroll to a Transponder Snail.

“You’ve reached him,” he spoke. His bluntness seemed to catch the woman off-guard, for she didn’t speak for a moment.

“Well then, Mr. Ramierez, I’ve been asked by our Headmaster, Ozpin, to request a meeting between the two of you. I understand he has a few questions for you about your previous training and capabilities. He has taken quite the interest in your story, what with your foiling of the attempted assassination of Tukson, who I understand is an acquaintance of yours,” the voice spoke once more.

“How did they know about that?” Issho thought, before addressing the scroll once more.

“I see no problem with such a meeting. I do not have anything upcoming anytime in the next few days. When and where should I expect him?” Fujitora asked the Professor.

“He should be able to meet you at a small Cafe downtown called “Lava Java’. If possible, he should be able to meet you later today, would Four pm work?” Issho heard quick taps from the other side of the scroll, almost as though the woman was clicking a pen in and out. 

“I should be able to get there,” He spoke again, making a note to see how far away the Cafe was. “Four in the afternoon. I would ask for a description, but I’m afraid that would not be much use to me. Is there a specific table I can sit at instead?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Just find any table and Ozpin should be able to ask a server for you. Are there any questions you have? I have to get going in just a few minutes, classes will be beginning soon,” Professor Goodwitch spoke once more, the tapping growing more prominent.

“Then I shall see him soon. However, for both our sakes, simply tell him to look for the largest man in the store. I’m sure he will find me rather quickly,” Issho’s voice was full of mirth as he spoke.

The tapping on the other end of the scroll froze for a moment. When Glynda spoke, she was unusually serious. “I can do that, absolutely. I’ll let him know to look for you. Have a pleasant day,” her voice rang out.

“You as well, goodbye,” Fujitora responded, before sighing as a click was heard from the device. 

“I wonder what spooked her… why so serious, Professor? Was it something I said?” With a grumble as he heaved himself to his feet, Issho decided to simply ask the Headmaster when they met. Speaking… or rather, thinking of, how long did he have until they needed to meet?

“Vega, what time is it?” He asked his scroll once more.

“The time is currently 12:17pm,” his scroll voiced, before falling silent once more.

“Four hours until our meeting. I suppose I can freshen up beforehand. I wonder what kinds of Coffee they have at this… Lava Java,” Issho thought, moving towards the too-small shower. Oh, how he longed for his custom-sized shower on his battleship. He was sure he would develop back problems from having to contort himself into these rooms.

Why was everything here so damned small?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

With Glynda Goodwitch

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Glynda tapped on her pad, making notes, while she conversed with this Mr. Ramierez. Scowling as she realized the time, she tapped more quickly and attempted to bring the conversation to a close.

“I have to get going in just a few minutes, classes will be beginning soon,” she said, flicking quickly to a live feed of the Training Ring’s cameras.

“Then I shall see him soon. However, for both our sakes, simply tell him to look for the largest man in the store. I’m sure he will find me rather quickly,” the man’s voice rang out from her pad. Immediately, something snapped into place in the back of her mind, and her tapping ceased. 

Thinking quickly, as to not arouse suspicion, she continued the conversation, bringing it to a rather abrupt end. She began walking towards the training ring, mind awhirl.

“I can do that, absolutely. I’ll let him know to look for you. Have a pleasant day,” she said, closing her feed and opening the archives of security footage.

“You as well, goodbye,” Ramierez’s voice rumbled, his baritone actually causing the scroll to shake slightly in her hands. Wasting no time, she clicked the end call button and focused on finding her query before classes began.

It took her until she was almost to the arena before she found it; footage of the stranger in the Emerald Forest. Playing it back, she watched as the man easily, almost casually, executed the Grimm swarming him. Taking a closer look, she found an angle from an oft-unused camera, one mounted at nearly chest-height. The camera was positioned so she could only see about half of the battle, but it was enough to confirm her suspicions.

For just a few seconds, she saw a beowulf, charging towards the man. The part that she was interested in, however, was not the person’s weapon, nor his stance, nor the stranger’s face, swathed in shadows. It was instead how dwarfed the beowulf was compared to the stranger. Even reared back to strike, the Grimm barely reached the man’s chest. Normally, an average Beowulf would reach far beyond someone’s head when they were reared to strike. 

These Grimm were not even especially small, as evidenced by their proportions to the trees around them. In fact, Glynda would dare to say that these particular Grimm were actually slightly larger than average.

And this man, Issho Ramierez… he was extraordinarily tall. Almost nine feet tall, and it wasn’t as though the man was lanky or skinny. Probably well over two hundred and fifty pounds, his figure was most likely extremely similar to that of the stranger in the forest.

She quickly sent a message to Ozpin telling him that “It’s likely that this Issho Ramierez is the same person who was fighting Grimm in the Emerald Forest yesterday. Be wary,” she sent, while striding into the ring. 

She didn’t expect a response, and so wasn’t disappointed when she got a single letter (‘k’) in response. Honestly, if he responded in any real capacity then Glynda would be worried that someone had stolen his scroll. Sighing, she pocketed the now-collapsed scroll pad and snapped her riding crop in her hand, immediately silencing the chattering students.

“First match!” She barked out. “Ruby Rose, of Team RWBY, versus Russel Thrush, of Team CRDL! You have five minutes to prepare! Our classes today are slightly shorter than normal, as we have preparations for the Vytal Festival occurring, so be quick.” Immediately, the silver-eyed girl jumped up (with an encouraging shout from her sister), and dashed into the locker rooms. Russel simply sighed, slowly levering himself to his feet, and strode towards his own.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

In his office, Ozpin snickered as he saw a notification pop through on his terminal, reading simply “Message Read, 12:29pm.” He quickly sobered, however, as he began preparing for his venture into Vale. Sending one last quick message to James Ironwood, regarding his security, he grabbed his cane, The Long Memory, from where it rested against his desk. Snapping it to its full length, the Headmaster walked to the elevator, and in a fit of childishness, used the cane to press the button instead of using his hand. 

With a beep, the elevator began moving, and Ozpin delved into his consciousness, reaching out with his power to sense Vale. What he saw still worried him. When he had watched the stranger in the Emerald Forest, he had taken some time to sense all he could, and was staggered when he did.

Now, Ozpin’s sensing powers were not something he could use on a whim. It took time, energy, and most importantly, concentration. His long elevator ride granted him only a brief look at the world around him, and what he sensed sobered him completely. 

Just after the Emerald Forest Stranger had departed, Ozpin had taken time to sense Vale. Normally, the average person barely registered, like a scroll’s light in the sunshine. Students or huntsmen-in-training were like a lightbulb in a dim room, and fully trained huntsmen were like the full moon on an empty night. Maidens such as Amber were even brighter, like spotlights shining at oneself in a dark room, almost blinding.

However, all of these paled in comparison to the new addition. If Maidens were the Moon, Ozpin could be compared to the Sun. His own light was immense, eclipsing all of the other signatures in his range. Even at a fraction of what his power once was, he was the most powerful man in Vale. Until now. Now, this new signature was like a Black Hole. Immense, overpowering, and oppressive, this presence drew attention from everyone, realized or not. 

Their power blanketed the entire kingdom, pressing down into every crack and crevasse of the city. The lights of civilians were almost invisible, and all other signatures seemed dim. The first time Ozpin had taken time to extend his senses, he nearly staggered from the sheer weight pressing down upon him. Unfortunately, he could not exactly pinpoint the owner, as the darkness surrounding it made location all but impossible.

Snapping back to himself once more as the elevator dinged open, Ozpin strode out into the sunshine, The Long Memory in hand. With his other, he pulled out his scroll. Checking the time, he saw he had almost four hours before his meeting at Lava Java. Pocketing it, he began striding towards the gardens, intent on enjoying the sunshine for a while. Glynda had said that she wouldn’t hold a break against him.

In moments, the Headmaster had settled himself upon a bench, and closed his eyes, basking in the sun. The sweet sounds of birdsong filled the air, the wind tussled his hair, and the warmth of the sun put him at ease.

Perhaps Glynda was right after all (not that she was ever wrong, really), he could use a break. Perhaps a few minutes of relaxation would absolve him of some stress.

Relaxing his body, he collapsed his cane and pocketed it, before shifting his torso to a more comfortable position, one leaning against the back of the bench. The sun had done wonders for warming his seat.

Allowing his thoughts to wander, listening to birdsong, Ozpin really, truly relaxed for the first time in months.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was a peaceful scene that Yang Xiao-Long chanced upon. She liked to think of herself as a rather adaptable individual. Capable of changing tactics as needed against opponents (though her original strategy of just punching them seemed to work rather well), the brawler was a force to be reckoned with. In terms of grades, she was no slacker, either. She was top of her class at Signal, after all. Having an Instructor for a parent really discouraged poor report cards. 

Few and far between were the times that she was at a loss for words, unable to act due to indecision. But at this specific moment, the blonde was struck with incredulity.

Before her sat the Headmaster of Beacon, Ozpin, one of the most powerful people in Vale. An accomplished Huntsman, he was responsible for the rearing of the future generations of the defenders of humanity. On all previous occasions, Yang had seen the man as wise, perhaps mysterious. Always exuding an air of quiet power, the man seemed to suggest with his very presence that he knew something that others did not, a small twinkle in his eye as he spoke.

Those selfsame eyes were now drooped shut, and quiet snores escaped his mouth as he slumbered in the sun. The breeze gently ruffled his hair, sweeping it to and fro. The lines in his face seemed deeper than normal, as though some great weight pressed down upon him. As an incredulous Yang looked on (because Glynda would never allow him something like this), Ozpin’s hair seemed to twitch.

“What the hell?” Yang thought.

His hair twitched again, before a small grey bird popped its head out, staring unblinkingly at Yang, as though telling her to back off. It seemed the Headmaster’s head was the perfect nesting place.

Yang froze, eyes going wide, before she shoved her hand in her mouth to silence her peals of laughter. It didn’t entirely work, as he snorted, then shifted his position.

Quietly, desperately, she tiptoed backwards, trying to not wake the slumbering man. She’d not deny the man his beauty rest, after all.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Three Hours Later

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Issho was not a man that normally worried about menial things such as meetings. He was a powerful admiral, one of the most influential and capable members in the entirety of the World Government, and it was not normal for him to be apprehensive of anything, bar any world-threatening events.

So it was strange that he was now nervous about his upcoming meeting with the Headmaster of Beacon. His backstory was solid, this much he knew, but how could he possibly explain his skills? Cipher Pol Training was something he possessed, but not to the degree of any active members. It wasn’t in his nature to lie, and so he felt (justifiably!) apprehensive about having to fabricate yet another story, this time for someone he likened to himself.

While not exactly the same, this man, Ozpin, was responsible for training and teaching the future defenders of Humanity against the constant threat of the Grimm. Issho, personally, was responsible for training many young Marines as an interim instructor while being trained as an Admiral. It stood to reason that Ozpin was an accomplished, and most likely powerful, huntsman.

Issho didn’t know if the man was connected well with the citizens of Vale, but it stood to reason that he was at least moderately connected, as he had received information about the assassination attempt on Tukson within the week, before even the press got news.

If Fujitora had learned one thing from all his time in the Navy, it was that the press was there before even the Marines. They were hungry, like vultures, and they pounced on prey immediately, showing no mercy at all.

Perhaps he was exaggerating a small amount, but his point still stood! What kind of information network did the man have that he could both discover his involvement at the crime and track him down to set up a meeting, all before the press had even found out about it?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

At Lava Java, 3:30pm

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Leroy considered himself average in multiple aspects. Average looks, average build, average grades, average life. He made an average wage at an average store, and produced average quality coffee with his average skills.

The type of person that came into the Cafe was the only part of his life that was not average; Lava Java served Huntsmen almost exclusively. This was not due to discrimination, nor the lack of civilians in the area. It was mainly due to the presence of Huntsmen. While some civilians understood that they were of no consequence to them, the very nature of their abilities formed a rift between them and the average person.

Their Aura amplified their muscles, protected them from harm, and made them essentially superhumans. They were faster, stronger, quicker to react, could see farther, jump higher, things that were impossible for normal-folk became commonplace.

If someone heard of a civilian lifting a burning beam of a collapsed house to save a family member, they would be regaled as incredible. If a huntsman were to do the same thing, it would be commonplace. A civilian defending themselves from a Grimm was extraordinary. A Huntsman would kill tens of thousands of Grimm in their career.

The natural rift was born of distrust, not of the integrity or morality of the huntsmen, but of accidents. A pat on the back from Huntsmen to Huntsmen was normal. A pat on the back from Huntsmen to Civilian could bruise easily. A playful puch amongst civilians was painful but not totally harmful. A playful punch from a huntsman could easily shatter bones.

The Huntsmen were used to operating at a higher order than civilians or military. Accidents between them and civilians were originally so common that there were entire wards of hospitals dedicated to such injuries.

Now, however, people were wary. They understood that the Huntsmen were necessary, but still shied away when the Huntsmen approached. Mothers shielded their children, conversations became muted. As a result, most businesses were divided between Huntsmen and everyone else. The Huntsmen stores had racks for weapons, stronger materials in their furniture.

Lava Java was one such Cafe, and it catered to Huntsmen and the few civilians (either brave or stupid) that tried their luck. On this particular day, there were only three patrons in the store. Most employees were retired Huntsmen, and the owner was the same. However, Leroy was not. He was just a teen trying to get enough Lien for himself. 

So when the Headmaster of Beacon came striding through the doors, cane in hand, he was at a loss of what to do. Normal huntsmen he could handle. Even Oobleck, a professor of Beacon, he could deal with. But Ozpin was legendary amongst those that followed Huntsmen, especially those of Vale. 

Leroy could only stare as the Headmaster approached the register, eyes crinkled with amusement as he perused the variety of drinks available. Shaking his head slightly, Leroy steadied himself and launched into the standard greeting of Lava Java, hoping to Monty that his hands weren’t shaking too much.

“Welcome to Lava Java, where the coffee’s hot and the service is hotter! What can I get started for you today?” The grin on Leroy’s face felt forced, mentally berating himself for choosing a workplace with such a stupid greeting. 

He wasn’t expecting the Headmaster to chuckle, before returning the menu to its slot on the front of the register counter. 

“Oobleck has told me many things about this Cafe. It’s good to see that he didn’t understate the greeting, either. Could I have a large Molten Chocolate? And if possible, could you swirl in a bit of White Chocolate as well? Bart always told me that a bit more sweetness would do me wonders,” Ozpin said, a wry smile upon his lips.

“Absolutely, sir! A white chocolate swirl will run you an extra fifty cents, is that okay?” Leroy said, tapping at the register scroll.

“That should be fine,” Ozpin replied, a faraway look in his eyes as he imagined his beautiful cup of Cocoa. 

“Then your total comes out to one Lien and seventeen cents!” Leroy spoke, tapping the “End Transaction” button, and swiveling the register around to allow the man to pay.

“Actually, could you forward the bill to Beacon Academy? I’m here on business, fortunately.” Ozpin replied, placing both hands on the end of his cane.

“Absolutely, sir. I believe Doctor Oobleck does the same whenever he drops in, so we don’t need any information. I assume that the address he provided is the same as the one you wish to charge?” Leroy replied, bringing up the billing address.

Leroy then froze when an aura of power filled the air around Ozpin, the man’s face going from amused to irritated, his brows furrowing.

“I… is something wrong, sir?” Leroy asked, hands becoming clammy.

“Bartholemew has been charging the Academy for his personal drinks?” Ozpin ground out, sounding furious. 

“Y...yes? I believe so, sir... “ Leroy whimpered out, shaking in his shoes.

“That’s… that’s… absolutely genius!” Ozpin whispered, his furious expression and aura of power clearing in an instant, a beaming smile settling itself on his lips. “I should have been doing that for years! Now Glynda can’t get mad at me for spending personal funds on drinks! Thank you, my boy, for informing me of such a brilliant scheme. I shall find a seat, then.”

With that, Ozpin strode away, finding an empty table with lots of room around it. He had a feeling the person he was meeting would need it, after all.

Back at the register, Leroy sank to his knees, placing his head atop them and wrapping his arms around his shins. “Why did I ever take this job…” he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Fifteen Minutes Later

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ozpin was enjoying his day so far. Aside from his rocky start, the day was beautiful! The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the drink he had ordered was excellent. That boy had some real talent, even if he didn’t realize it. Taking another sip, Ozpin looked towards the door as it chimed open, and promptly choked on his drink. Eyes bugging out as he coughed and pounded his chest, he recovered just as the man hit his head on the doorframe with a resounding crack.

Muttering curses, the man strode in, one hand rubbing his poor, abused forehead, the other wielding a cane to tap the ground in front of him. With a few bumps, the giant of a man (how tall was he? Even Yatsuhashi at seven feet would be dwarfed by the man) found the register counter, and strode up to it.

The boy behind the counter, who was currently turned away, spoke out the normal greeting, finishing up his cleaning of the materials.

“Welcome to Lava Java, where the coffee is hot and the service is hotter! What can I get started for you… today…?” The boy turned, realized he had to look up, and did so. Then, he looked up more. Then even more. Finally, after craning like he was looking up a skyscraper, the young man gave an audible gulp as the giant’s head swiveled to look down at the boy.

“Good afternoon,” his baritone rumbled out, filling the store effortlessly. Idly, Ozpin noted that the man’s voice was rough, like a sailor or old singer’s. “I will take the largest available size of your most popular coffee.”

“A-absolutely, sir. Just a m-moment,” the young man squeaked, tapping at the register. “O-our most popular coffee at t-the moment is the Flowing Magma, a dark roast w-with two creams and one s-sugar,” the boy stuttered out. Ozpin probably should have learned his name, now that he thought about it.

“That will suffice,” the older man said, pulling a wallet from… somewhere in his robes. “How much will that cost?”

“Just a moment… your total is one Lien and seven cents,” the barista replied, his voice growing more steady as he adjusted to the man’s height.

Ozpin glared at his Hot Chocolate, wondering why it cost more than the biggest coffee available.

The rumbling baritone of the giant shook him from his thoughts, and he refocused on the conversation. There was no doubt that this was Issho Ramierez.

“Here you are,” the man spoke, handing over the appropriate number of Lien cards and coins.

“Thank you, sir, and have a Lava-licious day!” the Barista said, taking the Lien.

“Exact change, so not exactly completely impaired by his blindness,” Ozpin thought. “Though, we already knew this, especially with how he fought off two trained assassins.”

The giant walked across the store, before finding a corner table absent of patrons, and settling with his back to the corner.

“Cautious, or maybe simply accounting for his disability,” Ozpin thought, standing and striding towards the man’s table. 

Unerringly, the man’s head seemed to follow him as he wove through the tables. Finally, the Headmaster stopped before the giant, before pulling out the chair opposite him and sitting.

“Mr. Ramierez, I presume,” Ozpin said, dialing his mystery meter (patent pending) up to 11. The man inclined his head slightly, before speaking.

“That I am. Similarly, I presume that you are Ozpin, the Headmaster of Beacon, and the man that Professor Goodwitch asked me to meet. I do hope you were not waiting terribly long, Vale is quite confusing to me,” his deep voice permeated the air.

“I am indeed,” the shorter man admitted. “You seem to have me at a loss, however. Your knowledge of me seems rather fleshed-out, while my own knowledge of you seems rather lacking. However, that is neither here nor there. I simply had a few questions for you, if you would be so kind as to suffer me for a while.”

The giant sighed, then straightened as the Barista (“So his name is Leroy… Oum bless nametags”) approached, holding a large cup. 

“Your extra-large coffee, with two cream, one sugar, sir,” the young man said, placing the steaming cup on the table, before turning and striding towards the counter once more.

“Thank you,” the large man replied, unnecessarily. The Barista was already too far to hear. Addressing Ozpin once more, he spoke. “I would be more than happy to answer any questions you have, though I admit that I may not answer those of a personal nature,” he iterated.

“That won’t be a problem. I will try and keep my questions to a professional nature. Before that, though, I may as well give you a bit of information about myself. As I’m sure you already know, my name is Ozpin, and I am the current Headmaster of Beacon Academy. I was a huntsman for many years, before my early retirement when I was approached with an offer to teach future generations,” Ozpin said, keeping his descriptions purposefully vague.

“That is about what I expected, however, it would be remiss of me to not return the favour,” Ramierez replied. “My name is Issho Ramierez, and I am a former naval officer of the Kaihei Taiin, the defenders of my homeland, a small archipelago of islands in Nomad Bay. I was a part of the organization for multiple years, but due to recent developments, the organization has been… forcefully disbanded. I am now a citizen of Vale, and am simply searching for the best place to apply my… unique skillset.” 

“Forcefully disbanded? And what was that language? I’ve never heard anything like it, but this does explain quite a bit. A navy officer would no doubt have combat training… perhaps he was a rather high rank?” Raced through Ozpin’s head, before he smoothed his expression and spoke once more.

“Well, now that we know a bit more about each other, I would like to begin asking questions, if that’s alright with you?” Ozpin was already connecting dots, drawing paths, and being an all-around schemer (Qrow’s words, not his).

“I see no problem with that. It is, after all, what I expected when I came here. Your professor informed me of as much,” Issho spoke, amusement colouring his tone.

“Well then, I only have a few questions. The first, perhaps obviously, is where, exactly, you received your training? I have a few friends in both the police force and medical sector, and by your employer’s recount, you fought off two highly skilled attackers, simultaneously. Now, I do not mean to pry, but would your… condition… not impair your combat abilities?” Ozpin questioned. The giant sipped at his coffee, humming in contentment at the quality, before responding.

“As I mentioned before, I was a part of the Kaihei Taiin. They provided me with some training, though the majority of my abilities are self-taught. Marinfōdo was a frontier town, and as such, much of my combat prowess is forged in the heat of battle. Pirates mostly, but sometimes bandits or… Grimm,” Issho laid out. He had not lied, except for his swapping the word ‘Grimm’ in for ‘Sea Kings’. “As for my condition, I have long since learned to adapt to my situation. It is not as much a hindrance as one might think, especially when you learn to rely on your other senses,” the admiral explained.

Ozpin was impressed, despite his original wish to remain impassive. “If you rely on only your other senses, and were still able to best your opponents, I am very impressed. You must have achieved quite the high rank. If I may ask, what was your previous rank, in this… Kai-hei Tai-in?” His questions became just a bit more personal, but still nothing uncomfortable.

“In the Kaihei Taiin, I was ranked as an Admiral,” Issho decided to not lie about his position, it took him a lot of effort and charisma to gain it, after all.

Ozpin was, despite himself, even more impressed.

“To become an admiral, while blind? Even in civilian militaries, that requires both skill, and wisdom.”

“Well, Mr. Ramierez, colour me impressed. Even in civilian organizations, that is quite the impressive title for anyone to hold,” he said. Taking a sip of his drink, he sighed in satisfaction. “That is a good cup of Cocoa,”

“Cocoa? Not Coffee? I’m disappointed, Headmaster,” Issho said, suddenly venomous.

Ozpin leaned forwards, onto his cane, towards the towering man.

“What, exactly, do you mean by that?”

Issho snorted, gripping his own cane tightly. His sightless eyes bored deep into the far-too-old ones of Beacon’s leader.

“Do not play the part of the fool, Headmaster,” he said derisively. “You cannot deceive me with honeyed words.”

The cane in Ozpin’s hands began to creak ominously, and the air became charged with power.

“Would you care to provide me with an explanation?” The Headmaster said, a fake saccharine smile plastered on his face, as still as though it was chiseled from stone.

“It’s quite simple, really…”

And Issho sealed his fate.

“Coffee is simply superior to Hot Cocoa.”

The tension snapped, and the two began laughing. Out of the corner of his eye, Ozpin noticed the Barista, something-or-other, unfreeze, and walk towards the back room with shaky knees. He felt slightly bad, but his ploy had played off. The man in front of him, Ramierez, was unshaken. 

There was more to the man than meets the eye, evidently. It was not the average Leroy (that was the barista’s name). Just as he opened his mouth to say as much, his scroll rang.

“Damn this timing,” Ozpin cursed, before addressing the giant again. “Would you mind if I took this call? I’m afraid it’s from my deputy.”

“I don’t mind, go ahead. We’ve been talking for quite a while anyways,” Issho replied, the faintest shadow of a smile present on his face.

With a sigh as Ozpin saw the caller ID, he selected the “Accept Call” button. 

“Glynda. I trust there is a reason for this call? I thought I still had an hour for conversation with Mr. Ramierez,” Ozpin spoke, exasperated.

“You know I would not call if I thought it could wait. However, I have a situation here. Some of the transfer students seem to have thought that they were above the rules of Beacon, and it falls to you to discipline them, as they are not students of Beacon, and so not under my jurisdiction,” his Deputy’s voice rang out, concise and to the point.

Sighing deeply, Ozpin closed his eyes, then placed a hand over them and gently rubbed. His one good day just couldn’t hold up. 

“Then I shall come back to Beacon. I will see you soon,” he groaned, hovering his thumb over the end call button.

“Hurry back. I don’t want to have to deal with the backlash of this myself,” Glynda’s voice instructed.

“Yes, mom,” Ozpin griped, pressing the end call button before she could return fire.

He sighed once more, pocketing the scroll, and turned to look at Ramierez. His words died in his throat when he saw the expression on the giant’s face: mirth. The man was silently laughing, but schooled his expression once more to something resembling serious.

“What’s so funny?” Ozpin asked, only slightly bitter about forgetting the man.

“Oh, nothing. Just that you two must be quite close, to be able to make jokes in a dire situation,” Issho replied.

With a strange look, Ozpin chose not to reply, instead addressing the Goliath in the room. “I’m sure you heard, but I have to return to Beacon. Would you care to join me? I’m sure that I could find someone to give you a tour while you wait, if you’d be so inclined. I’d like to continue this conversation, and am unsure of how free my schedule will be in the coming weeks, what with the Vytal Festival occurring,” he said.

After barely a moment of deliberation, Issho accepted. “I see no reason why I should not. I would be honored to experience Beacon. Lead the way,” he said, sliding his chair backwards to stand.

“I look forwards to our continued interaction,” the giant said, extending his hand for a shake.

“And I as well,” Ozpin replied, clasping the much larger hand in his diminutive own.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Issho basked in the dying warmth of the day, relaxing as he soaked in the peaceful air of Beacon’s campus.

Striding towards the building he could sense in front of him, he stopped as he felt something wrong.

Turning towards the clocktower to his right, he concentrated, then froze. Furious, he double checked his senses, ensuring that what he felt was the truth.

As soon as it was verified, he strode towards Ozpin’s location.

The Headmaster and him would have words about why, exactly, the man had a fractured soul in his office.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Kaihei Taiin: Translates to “Marines”  
Marinfōdo: Translates to “Marineford”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello all! To everyone new, welcome! To you returning readers, welcome back! Thank you all for your continued support! Thank you all SO SO much for your support! We’re well past a hundred favorites, and nearly at two hundred follows! You all are amazing!
> 
> I’m sorry if this chapter isn’t as up to par as some of you may expect; my surgery had some complications. Fair warning beforehand for just a bit of gore! First things first, I had to have the IV put in FIVE TIMES because the first four didn’t take; I could feel the tube in my arm each time until the last. Now it looks like I’ve been shooting Heroin :/ Then, they had to use almost double the usual amount of Anasthesia because I’m so fucking tall, and THEN when I was out, I was apparently screaming because I felt everything through the drugs. After five days, I’m still restricted to soft foods as my wounds are still aggravated, and the stitching has yet to dissolve. I can still (even as I’m writing) taste blood at all times as my wounds are still healing. I’m in constant pain, am taking four separate antibiotics daily, and am alternating between Oxy (PRESCRIBED) and 600mg Ibuprofen to ease the pain. I’m not feeling too hot right now, so thank you all for bearing with me!
> 
> Sidenote, I will be departing for College in a week, and I will most likely miss a chapter or two as I get caught back up into the swing of school. Almost half a year off will do that to you, thanks Coronavirus. Thank you all for understanding that I might not be able to keep up with my usual schedule. Updates will be posted to the Discord, however.
> 
> Second sidenote, I did a bit of math to figure out drinks prices, and decided that RWBY most likely uses coins of the same material as Lien to denote smaller than one Lien denominations; A Venti Hot Cocoa from Starbucks is $3.45, plus 4% sales tax for CO (where I live); the extra swirl (which I priced at an extra fifty cents) converted to Lien comes to about 1.1712 Lien. A Trenta Coffee from Starbucks is the same, but I took away fifteen US cents as coffee is cheaper than Hot Cocoa. Converted to Lien, that comes out (with sales tax) to about 1.07445 Lien. I rounded, of course.
> 
> References!  
> The line “Why so serious, Professor?” is a reference to The Dark Knight (2008), with Heath Ledger’s legendary performance as the Joker, and said character’s iconic line, “Why so serious?”  
> The name of the Cafe, Lava Java, is a reference to a scene in the game Riddle School 5 (2010), when Phil scoops some lava from a pit using a coffee cup, calling it “Hot Lava Java”  
> The line “Now that is a good cup of Cocoa” is a reference to Monsters vs Aliens (2009). During a crisis meeting with the President, he yells “Somebody think of something, and think of it fast!”, then takes a sip of coffee, and follows it up with “Now that is a good cup of Joe”
> 
> Reader Interaction Time!  
> Does anyone know where the scene of Ozpin falling asleep and a bird making its nest in his hair came from? A hint; one is all, and all is one.
> 
> If anyone has any suggestions for the future of the story, please don’t hesitate to contact me via PM, Discord Message, or review. Any future conflicts, meetings, encounters, fight scenes, or references, let me know and if it’s plausible and I feel it fits with the story I’ll try and write it in.
> 
> Also, please let me know if there are any grammatical errors, continuity issues, or debased sentences anywhere in the story.
> 
> As always, if the story is to your liking, consider dropping a favourite, or follow if you want to be updated when anything changes with the story. Thank you for reading! See you all next week!
> 
> Songs listened to while writing:  
> “B.I.T.M” by SIAMES  
> “The Wolf” by SIAMES  
> “Firestorm” by SIAMES  
> “Mr. Fear” by SIAMES  
> “Stronger” by SIAMES  
> “Used to Be” by SIAMES  
> “As You Get High” by SIAMES  
> “The Cave” by SIAMES  
> “No Honey” by SIAMES  
> “Gimmie Some Sweet” by SIAMES  
> “Brothers” by SIAMES ft. Eddy Capparelli  
> “Young and Restless” by SIAMES  
> “Antidote” by Style of Eye and The Magnus  
> “Easier” by SIAMES  
> “Still Feel” by Half Alive  
> and FaceTiming my Co-Author
> 
> Total Wordcount: 7889  
> Wordcount without A/N: 6607


	7. Chapter 6 - The Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has a Discord! (discord (dot) gg (slash) HTmGeTj) Thanks, AO3, for not publishing the full link. That’s just fantastic.
> 
> A/N at end of chapter, PLEASE READ THE INFORMATION CONCERNING UPDATES

Beacon Academy stood tall in the dying light of the day, towers and parapets gleaming. The once-strong wind had become naught but a gentle breeze, and students had just finished classes. Across the campus, teams of students walked, some studying, most relaxing in the cool evening air. One particular team, however, was not taking advantage of the evening. In a dim room they gathered, voices like ice as they plotted.

One sat upon a bed, committing the most heinous of acts: sewing. On the floor another committed a crime nearly unspeakable: reading comics. And the third was the worst, performing an act that would shake even the most hardened Huntsman to their bones: playing with their scroll.

How despicable.

The three were mid-conversation, and the first’s voice rang out, clear and concise.

“Ah, the invincible girl,” she said, pulling a stitch tight in the dress.

“She’s smart, but I wouldn’t call her invincible,” the comic-reader replied, glancing over at her, silver hair brushing past his eyes.

“Oh? Do tell,” the first replied.

“Her semblance is polarity,” the last one spoke, interjecting herself into the conversation, never once tearing her red eyes from the screen. “But you couldn’t find out just from watching.”

“Once she made contact with my legs, she could move them around freely. But she only made slight adjustments,” the comic was laid flat, its owner shifting to sit upright.

“Not like that guy at Tukson’s though, he didn’t need slight adjustments, right Mercury? If I remember correctly, he threw you like a ragdoll,” the red-eyed one taunted, smirk adorning her face. She pocketed her scroll and sat up straight.

“At least I managed to get close to landing a hit, unlike someone else in this room, Emerald” Mercury replied. “Only one of us actually fought him,” a smirk of his own grew.

“Psh, I could’ve done a thousand times better if I wasn’t stuck with you,” Emerald responded, reaching for the remaining half of Thief’s Respite. The other half was lost to the mystery man. It pained her to only fight with one weapon, but she could adapt. Increasing the caliber of the remaining firearm and giving herself a combat knife for the other hand was a suitable replacement.

“You think you could beat me? Your semblance doesn’t work on him, he’s stronger than you, and you lost half your weapon despite not having actually crossed blades with him. You couldn’t even beat me in bed, Em,” Mercury replied, grin widening.

“Fuck you,” Emerald snarled back.

“See, I’d love to, really, I would, but there’s one tiny problem with that,” Mercury responded, grin fading.

“And what problem would that be?” Emerald challenged.

“Me,” the last member replied, dress smoldering in her fingers. “I thought I told you when I disciplined you that you were to stop talking about it,” the pseudo-maiden snarled, eyes burning with ephemeral flame.

An audible gulp resounded in the now-silent room, before Emerald turned from Mercury to face the final member of the party, eyes wide.

“Sorry, Cinder. Forgive me, I thought-,” she whispered.

“You did not think, Emerald,” Cinder snarled back, placing the dress to the side and standing. “Had it not been for your and Mercury’s recklessness, then we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.”

“I apologize, ma’am. I won’t bring it up again,” Emerald said.

“See that it doesn’t come up again. That goes for you too, Mercury,” Cinder said, before sitting and sighing. “Back to our original topic, Pyrrha Nikos. People assume that she’s fated for victory, but in reality, she’s taken her fate into her own hands. Add her to the list,” she said, rubbing one hand on her chin, the other crossed underneath in a typical “thinking” position.

“You should be able to overpower her, no problem,” Mercury said, fixing his gaze into his boss’.

“It’s not about overpowering the opponent. It’s about taking what power they have away,” she said, eyes gleaming.

“I hate waiting,” Mercury whined.

Rolling her eyes, Cinder took the dress up once again. “Don’t worry, Mercury. We have a fun weekend ahead of us,” she smiled.

It never reached her eyes.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Meanwhile, in a Bullhead flying towards Beacon, one Headmaster was rubbing his hand over his weary eyes. Sighing deeply, he bounced slightly as the Bullhead hit a bit of turbulence.

Removing his digits from his face, he replaced his glasses and turned to the man sitting across from him.

“It seems that I can never have a full day of relaxation. Something always seems to come up,” he mused, leaning back in his seat and pocketing his scroll, which he had just been using to converse with his Deputy.

“Life is never fair,” the giant rumbled, head bowed slightly to avoid knocking it on the ceiling. “We must play with the hands fate has dealt us to the best of our abilities,” he smiled, some unknown memory passing through his mind.

“Indeed we must,” Ozpin replied with a dry laugh. Devoid of humour, he turned to the front of the craft, staring out the main window. In front of them, Beacon Academy loomed. “It is such a shame that the hand never seems to be as loaded as everyone else’s, however,” he said, mirth evident.

With a deep laugh, the other man nodded. “That is, I suppose, how everyone feels.”

The pilot of the Bullhead then spoke over his shoulder.

“Coming in for a landing now,” he said, eyes focused forwards as he eyed the landing pad. “Professor Goodwitch is waiting for you at the pad.”

“Thank you, Reginald,” Ozpin replied.

A few moments later, the Bullhead settled with a thump, coming to rest and powering down as the grass around the pad swayed in the wind. With a sharp whine, the rear ramp lowered, revealing the Beacon campus in all its glory. The view was ruined slightly by his Deputy standing in the way with a scowl, however, Ozpin could look past that.

“Welcome, Mr. Ramierez, to Beacon Academy,” Ozpin said, gesturing grandly to the scenic view, proud of what he could call his own.

“I assume the view is spectacular, Headmaster, however, I seem to be lacking the functionality to take advantage of it, Issho responded, dry as bone.

Freezing in his gesturing, arms spread wide, the world seemed to fall silent as Ozpin registered what he was doing. Somewhere, a single, solitary cricket chirped its mating call for the night. Coughing and lowering his arms, Ozpin strode forwards. Behind him, he heard the reassuring tapping of Issho’s cane, and his footsteps as they strode onto the landing pad.

“Glynda! How are you, it’s been far too long!” Ozpin spoke, grin wide.

With a scathing look, Glynda snapped her riding crop and began striding away, expecting the Headmaster to follow, talking as she moved.

“Two transfer students seem to have thought that mishandling Dust while in a dust storage area would be a good idea. They nearly blew up half the school, and I’ve left them with Peter to keep an eye on them. They do, however, require attention from you specifically, as transfer students are not under our jurisdiction,” she listed in quick succession, tapping on her pad to let Port know they were on the way.

“That is all well and good, Glynda, but I have a slight problem,” Ozpin replied, stumbling a bit as he jogged to draw level with her.

“And what would that be?” She responded, eyes flat behind her glasses.

“My guest, of course!” Ozpin gestured grandly behind him to Issho, who was only keeping up with her breakneck pace by virtue of his long strides. “I can’t take him with us, the administration of Beacon is reserved for involved parties only, and unless you suddenly decide that this forty-something year old man is now a student, he cannot attend.”

With an exaggerated frown, he continued. “Now, it would be remiss of me to simply abandon my charge, especially when I was the one to invite him to our grounds in the first place, so I will simply have to accompany him and take him on a tour. I’m sure the students can wai-” he froze mid-sentence, the hair on the back of his neck rising as an aura of Killing Intent filled the air in front of him, courtesy of Glynda.

With a smile too wide to be anything close to real, the demon rounded on Ozpin, who cowered back slightly.

“You misunderstand, Ozpin. If you choose to leave their punishment until later, then I will be forced to do mounds of paperwork for their Academies, explaining exactly why we detained them for so long while you were gallivanting around the campus. It was not a request that you come,” she spat, every word as a curse upon her foolish superior.

Eyes wide, Ozpin nodded quickly. He may be the more powerful between the two, but he pitied the fool that tried to screw over Glynda Goodwitch. Hell hath no fury like a Huntress screwed over.

A soft chuckle emanated from behind the two, and they both turned to see the blind man laughing softly into his closed fist. When he heard the two stop bickering, he stopped, feeling their gazes upon him.

“My apologies, but you reminded me of two old friends,” he said, lowering his hand. “Forgive my intrusion.”

“It’s no problem,” Ozpin responded. “However,” here he sent a sidelong glance at the Professor beside him, “I seem to have an urgent matter that requires my immediate attention. Would it be alright with you if I took some time to fix this issue? I can assure you that the grounds are easy to navigate if you wish to explore on your own. Glynda can find you at any time,” he said.

“I wouldn’t dream of denying you your chance to fix the issue. Go, deal with the troublemakers. I can find my way around on my own, I assure you. It’s not as though you will lose me in a crowd,” his dry humour elicited a chuckle from Ozpin, who strode forwards until Issho was within arm’s reach.

“Then I shall see you soon,” he said, extending his hand for a shake, smile adorning his face.

Unerringly, the blind man clasped his hand in his own, pumping it twice, before releasing it and turning to stride away.

“I do hope so, Headmaster. Good evening to both of you,” Issho said, striding away.

“Good evening,” Ozpin replied as the giant strode. Glynda chose to say nothing.

With a small glare, Ozpin turned to his Deputy.

“Would it kill you to act cordial to the man?” he asked. With a dry look as his response, he sighed, then continued. Checking that Ramierez was out of hearing range, he sobered immediately.

“So you saw it as well?” he asked his friend.

“Indeed. The man was completely unaffected by the killing intent. That was no small amount, either. That much makes even Qrow sweat, if only a little,” Glynda replied, staring at the retreating figure.

“Curiouser and curiouser…” Ozpin muttered, striding away with Glynda at his side. “In any case, I believe I have a few troublemakers to take care of.”

They never noticed the giant’s steps sped up after they stopped discussing him.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Issho quickened his stride, deep in thought. So the man was testing him, that was why he was texting his Deputy on the Bullhead. He couldn’t see the screen, so he would have had no idea what the Headmaster was talking about; in addition, the front the two put up was incredible. He did have an inkling, however, that it wasn’t a total act; that it was similar to what would have happened anyways. That kind of ease and sincerity was incredibly difficult to fake.

Sighing in contentment as the breeze tussled his hair, he strode around, deciding to make the most of his time. The first building he sensed was forwards and left. Striding up to the door, he pushed it open and felt a rush of cool air slide over him. The air inside was muted, quiet. He felt a few people turn to him as he entered, but look away eventually as he found a seat.

The rustling of papers filled the air, and he heard a book snap shut a few times. Issho relaxed, deciding that the place was most likely a library. Well, perfect. The one building that was entirely useless to him, was the first he walked into. After a few minutes of enjoying the cooled air (and wasn’t that an amazing invention?), he stood and strode out once more.

Turning to the next building near him, he strode forwards. He halted, however, when his ears, enhanced by his loss of sight, detected the faint noises of pleading. Turning and hurrying towards it, he halted at the edge of his listening range.

“C’mon, guys, let’s go. This is boring,” a male voice said.

“Yeah, besides, we gotta get to dinner soon anyways,” a second responded.

“Haha, yeah. See you around, freak,” the first spoke again.

He felt the three signatures separate from the one huddled on the ground, then stride away from him, towards the large building ahead. Clenching his cane tightly in his hand, he walked forwards. It seemed that some people never learned.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Velvet Scarlatina was angry. Normally, when one was angry, they became cross, perhaps they lashed out, either verbally or physically. However, when Velvet was angry, she became cold and distanced. This wasn’t an issue if there was something to direct her anger towards, such as Grimm, but here? On Beacon’s campus? There was nothing to do, nowhere for her to vent her emotions, and so they overflowed. Usually, in tears.

She heard the first-years around her leave, one final “freak” tossed her way as they left. Oh, how she longed to beat them into the ground, to dominate them until they realized she wasn’t the helpless weakling they thought her to be. But she couldn’t. That would involve hurting them, probably quite badly, and her bleeding heart wouldn’t allow such a thing.

As she slowed her tears, still huddled on the ground, she heard something approaching. A rhythmical tapping, with footsteps interspersed in between. Furiously scrubbing her eyes, lest someone see her in tears, she began to turn as the footsteps and tapping closed in. A hand appeared in her vision, large and calloused.

“Are you alright, young miss?” a deep, baritone voice rang out, warm and inviting. Turning to look at the owner, she first caught sight of sandals, with two vertical blocks underneath, raising the man up off the ground. Next, she saw calves, rippling with muscle and sinew. Above that was a purple robe, with a white jacket behind it.

Looking up, she started. She adjusted her view to where Yatsuahaushi’s head was, then faltered as she had to look even higher.

“Miss?” the voice rang out once again, and she realized she had never acknowledged him. Before she could look at his face, she flushed as she thought of what he had stumbled across.

“Y-yes…” she whimpered out, clasping the still-open hand in her own diminutive one. The man pulled up, until she was standing straight.

“I couldn’t help but overhear the last part of what just occurred,” he said, concern evident in his voice.

Gathering her courage, Velvet looked up at the man’s face, far above her own. As she did, she spoke.

“It’s nothing new,” she said, meek in delivery. “Those first-years do things like that all the time.”

She finally saw his face, and started. The man was blind; while not normally something that would have her pause, it was the large scars over his eyes that made her gasp.

“All the time?” His voice rumbled.

“Y-yes… they constantly pick on the Faunus, believing themselves to be superior,” Velvet replied, craning backwards to stare into the man’s eyes. Even if he was blind, common courtesy should not be ignored. 

“Like the fishmen all over again,” the man whispered, only audible due to her Faunus hearing. Louder, he spoke to her directly. “And why did you not fight back? Even from our brief encounter, I can tell that you are much more powerful than them, dissuading them would be easy for someone of your caliber,” he said, puzzled.

“While I certainly could take all of them on, at once if necessary, that wouldn’t solve the problem. If I show them that I am stronger than them, that I’m willing to fight back, then they’ll target someone else. Someone that can’t fight back, someone who’s too weak to speak out. Sure, it saves me a small amount of pain, but it would make someone else’s life hell,” she replied, fire and determination gleaming in her eyes.

For a moment, the man didn’t respond, meeting her gaze steadily. When he did speak, there was an underlying tone of… was that respect?

“Then you are stronger than I gave you credit for. Forgive me,” he said, inclining his head slightly.

“Oh, it’s no problem!” Velvet responded, mood steadily growing more pleasant. “Besides, if it ever gets really out of hand, I have my team to protect me!” She clenched her fists upright in front of her face, blowing a small amount of air out of her nose as she did so. 

Realizing her pose, she immediately dropped it, linking her hands behind her back. Coughing slightly, she spoke again, thankful that the man couldn’t see her flushed face. “Oum above, even Yatsuhaushi is shorter than him!” Velvet thought.

“A-anyways, what brings you to Beacon? You’re not a student, I think…” here, she sent the man a dubious look. “And you’re not a Professor, so what brought you?” The rabbit Faunus was confused, one could only access Beacon if they had proper clearance.

A small chuckle shook her from her thoughts, as the man explained himself.

“I am actually here at the behest of the Headmaster. Unfortunately, he had an incident come up when we arrived, and so told me to help myself to the grounds while he dealt with it,” the giant admitted.

“Well, on behalf of Beacon and it’s students, welcome! I’m sorry that such a scene was created just after you arrived,” she said, putting on what Coco called her “Upperclassman Voice”.

With a chuckle, the man responded. “A pleasure, Ms… forgive me, I never asked your name.”

“Ah! It’s Velvet. Velvet Scarlatina,” the Faunus replied, her mood almost completely recovered. “And yours?” She asked.

“My name is Issho Ramierez,” he replied, before tilting his head slightly. “In any case, you wouldn’t happen to know of any places to explore while I wait for Ozpin to free himself from Professor Goodwitch’s influence, would you?” 

A small smile crossed Velvet’s face as she imagined the Headmaster being verbally lashed by the Deputy.

“I sure would! Actually, since classes have finished early due to the Vytal festival, I could give you a quick tour if you’d like?” Velvet asked, eager to help.

With a soft chuckle, Issho spoke once more. “I would enjoy that. It would certainly be better than wandering around with abandon,” he said, voice full of mirth. “I have only visited the Library so far, and I have to say that it didn’t live up to expectations. You’ve seen nothing once, you’ve seen it a thousand times,” the laughter in his voice was evident. 

“Then as a student of Beacon, it is my duty to help you discover just how amazing out campus is!” Velvet spoke, determined once more.

“I leave myself in your care, Ms. Scarlatina,” Issho said, falling into step beside her.

“Then, first up we’ll go to the Amphitheatre and Playfield!” Velvet said, eager to begin the tour.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Blake Belladonna was sparring. In front of her stood her opponent, cocky and confident. Those traits were not unfounded, however. Yang Xiao-Long was a formidable opponent.

“Come on, Blake! I would have thought you had the stamina for round two,” Yang called, grin upon her lips.

“I hate you,” Blake returned, massaging her sore and bruised muscles.

“What’s wrong, Blakey? Mad that I pack a punch?” the brawler returned. “Eh? Eh? Aw, come on, that was a good one!”

A deadpan stare was her only response.

“You’re no fun,” Yang muttered. “Anyways, we should probably get back to the room, right? Weiss had something to talk about, I think,” here, she pulled out her scroll to check the time, freezing when she noticed the time.

“Man, we must have been having fun for a lot longer than I thought,” she said, pocketing the scroll. “But we do have time for another round, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Can we at least take a breather first? I want to be able to think properly if we do fight.” Blake replied, sitting down inside the ring.

“Sure thing! Y’know, you might be able to think properly if you got some more sleep,” Yang said, striding over to sit next to her.

“What do you mean?” Blake responded.

“Come on, Blake, you can’t disguise the bags under your eyes. You’re killing yourself looking for Torchwick and The White Fang; take a break. I guarantee you’ll do better work,” Yang replied, rotating on the spot to face her partner.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Blake returned. “Besides, if I don’t look for them, who will? The Police? They’re laughably inept when it comes to the Fang,” her tone became bitter.

“I’m not saying to stop looking for them, just slow down a bit. Let’s say you do find them, and go to fight. You’ll get killed because you can’t even think straight,” Yang’s tone became humorous for a moment. “But maybe you wanna try something other than straight,” a smirk adorned her face.

With a small glare, Blake ignored her obvious flirting and instead simply chose to not respond. Just as she stood, ready for another round of sparring with her partner, the door to the hall was flung open.

In strode Velvet Scarlatina, an upperclassman rabbit faunus. Confusion wandered through Blake’s head as the other Faunus held the door open, and her confusion only intensified when she saw who was with Velvet.

“That’s the guy I saw in Vale… what’s he doing at Beacon?” she thought. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, however, her partner leapt to her feet and ran towards the two at the door.

“What’s she doing?” Blake wondered.

“You!” Yang yelled as she approached. Velvet spun from where she was conversing with the man, arms automatically coming up in a defensive stance. For his part, the man simply turned his head and raised an eyebrow.

“May I help you?” His voice rang out, easily traversing the distance to Blake, even without raising his voice.

“You sure can. How do you know Junior? For that matter, how did you do that?” In rapid succession, she fired questions and statements at the man. Velvet lowered her hands, realizing that no one was in danger.

Calmly, the man folded his hands on the handle of his cane, then responded to each question with one of his own. “I’m not sure who this ‘Junior’ is, could you describe him for me? And I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific; what are you referring to?” his voice held a trace of laughter.

As he spoke, Blake began making her way over to stand next to her partner.

“Junior is the owner of The Club, downtown Vale. You were there, don’t deny it, he said that you came looking for info and Junior sent you to O’Flanagan’s. Speaking of O’Flanagan’s, that’s what I mean. How did you collapse the ground and make those guys faint? Was it your Semblance?” Yang returned. Her questions confused Blake, who didn’t know what the dynamic between the two was.

“Yang, who is this person?” She asked her partner in a whisper. Unfortunately, no one else was talking, so the whisper carried. The large man grinned as Velvet’s ears folded backwards in sympathetic embarrassment. Blake’s own face became touched with heat.

“I believe that this young lady was present at O’Flanagan’s, a casino that I was gambling at. Thanks to her actions, I learned that the tender was cheating me out of money that I should have been receiving. I never did properly thank you for that, miss,” he said, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, he left out the part where he knocked out all the guards without even hitting them, and made craters around their bodies as big across as he is tall, though,” Yang responded, giving the man an appraising once-over.

“I took action into my own hands. Also, I was unaware of Junior’s name before now, so I thank you for that. He does provide excellent drinks, though,” the man replied, lifting his cane by the shaft to tap his chin with the handle.

“As for how I did it… I suppose it’s a mystery, isn’t it?” his mirth showed on his face. “I’m sure you could figure it out on your own, given enough information and time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yang exclaimed, planting one hand - balled into a fist - on her hip, cocking her head to the side slightly.

“Exactly what I said,” the giant stated. “Speaking of, I haven’t learned your name yet, Miss…?”

“Xiao-Long. Yang Xiao-Long. Huntress-in-training at Beacon, terror of Grimm everywhere, and all-around badass,” Yang replied, grin on her face as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

Blake scoffed at her description, and received a light punch for her offense. Blake took a step to the side to soften the blow; a light punch for the brawler was akin to a haymaker from anyone else. Returning to her original position as the man spoke, she straightened upon hearing his words.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Xiao-Long. My name is Issho Ramierez. I can’t claim any impressive titles such as yourself, although I do have some combat training. And who might you be?” With the last question, Blake straightened.

“My name is Blake Belladonna, a Huntress-in-training here at Beacon, and partner to Yang,” Blake said, wondering if he remembered her from their interaction days ago.

“A pleasure,” Issho returned, extending a hand to each of them in turn for a shake. Impressively, he didn’t wince when Yang clasped his hand.

Blake decided to prod a bit and see if he remembered her.

“You were in Vale a few days ago, weren’t you?” She asked as innocently as possible. Evidently, she overdid it a bit as Velvet gave her a strange look. Glancing away, she saw that Yang was also giving her a strange look. Damn.

“I would hope so, considering I live there,” Ramierez returned, grin spreading on his face. “But I assume that you might have caught sight of me before today?”

“A bit more than that, really. You asked me for directions to the Hospital. You also had blood on your hands; what happened?” Blake replied. She had been wondering about the source of the mess for a few hours, before Torchwick and The White Fang had erased it from her mind.

“Ah, so that was you. Thank you for your help. In regards to what happened and where the blood came from, that is a bit of a story. There was an attempt on my friend’s life, one that nearly succeeded, and I had to get to the hospital to meet with him.” Issho explained, gripping his cane tightly as he recalled the events of that day. 

“Oum above! Is your friend okay?” Yang asked, concern bleeding into her voice.

“He is fine, at least he is now, and is expected to make a full recovery. Tukson is a tough old cat,” Issho replied, less concerned than he probably should have been about his friend nearly dying.

“Tukson?!” Blake blurted, eyes snapping into focus on Ramierez. “Tukson from Tukson’s Book Trade?”

“The one and only, as far as I know,” Issho replied. “You know him?”

“I know him very well, he’s an old friend of the family, plus he sells me books most other places won’t,” Blake replied, thinking furiously. Was it the Fang that tried to have Tukson killed? And how did they not succeed? How did it not make the news?  
“Why would other places not sell you books, Blakey?” Yang asked.

Blake froze, then flushed slowly as she floundered, thinking of an excuse. In the end, she simply said “It’s not important” and carried on, face red.

“What happened?” Blake decided on asking the behemoth of a man.

“I’m not entirely sure. Tukson employs me, but as you can imagine, a blind man in a bookstore isn’t the most intuitive combination. I simply help with the heavy lifting so Tukson doesn’t have to strain himself in the back. I don’t know what happened, but I heard a commotion in the front, and when I came out I found Tukson crumpled in front of the register counter, bleeding out. I got him to a hospital fast enough, however,” Issho replied, the mirth in his voice fading as he lost himself in memory.

“What happened to the people that attacked him?” Yang asked, concern showing in her voice.

“I don’t know; they had jumped out the window and fled. It’s unknown where they are currently,” Issho replied. One hand had come up to rub his chin as he spoke.

Blake didn’t think his story added up completely, but worry for Tukson overrode her logic for the moment.

“Anyways, what are you doing here, big man?” Yang asked, dropping her balled fist from her hip. “How’d you get here anyways? I thought only students and staff could get here outside of, like, festivals and stuff.”

“The Headmaster was the one to invite me to Beacon. We were having a lovely chat over coffee, however, something came up and he had to come back to take care of it,” Issho responded. 

Just as Yang opened her mouth to respond, her scroll buzzed. Whipping it out, she took one look at the time and blanched.

“Crap, Weiss is gonna kill us! We gotta get back to the room, Blake,” she said, pocketing the scroll and turning to face her partner.

“Is it that time already?” Blake asked, turning to face Velvet and Issho.

“Sorry about ditching like this, but the Ice Queen’ll have our hides if we don’t get back soon. It was nice to meet you, though. Enjoy Beacon!” Yang said. As she spoke, she grabbed Blake’s hand and sprinted to the door, before throwing it open and bolting out.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Issho pretended to not hear the way the wall behind the door crack-ed with the force of Yang’s opening.

He then turned to the young woman beside him.

“Is this behaviour normal here? If so, I fear that I understand both Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch much better,” He said, dry as could be.

“No, team RWBY is… unique, for lack of a better word,” Velvet responded, before brightening considerably. “However, that does conclude our tour of the grounds! Did you have any questions about the sparring or training methods employed here?”

“I don’t think so; I’m sure that you all have safety prioritized at least somewhat, which is enough for me,” Issho said, before thinking “It can’t be any worse than Sakazuki’s training, at least.”

“Well, if that’s all, I’m going to go meet up with my team, if you don’t mind,” Velvet said. “I think Fox would love to meet you. It’s not often he meets another visually challenged individual,” her smile was easy enough for Issho to discern.

“I think I would enjoy that, however, I will have to delay that meeting until a later date; I have to meet the Headmaster rather soon, if he’s available, to finish our conversation. I also have to get back to Vale sometime tonight,” the Admiral returned, before reaching for his scroll.

“Vega, what time is it?” He asked the device.

“The time is currently… 6:42pm,” the device responded.

“Thank you for the tour, Miss Scarlatina,” he said, pocketing the device once more. “It was a very enjoyable way to pass the time.”

“No problem at all! I hope to see you around again! Bye, Mister Ramierez!” With that farewell, the girl walked off, a spring in her step.

The admiral waited for a moment before following, striding out of the training hall, into the open air of the main grounds.

Issho basked in the dying warmth of the day, relaxing as he soaked in the peaceful air of Beacon’s campus.

Striding towards the building he could sense in front of him, he stopped as he felt something wrong.

Turning towards the clocktower to his right, he concentrated, then froze. Furious, he double checked his senses, ensuring that what he felt was the truth.

As soon as it was verified, he strode towards Ozpin’s location.

The Headmaster and him would have words about why, exactly, the man had a fractured soul in his office.

He was so occupied with the girl in the basement that he never noticed a certain red-eyed, green-haired girl emerge from around a corner, freeze, then turn and run the way she came.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

To any outside observer, Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck was a straightforward man. He loved history, drank a bit too much caffeine, and was an excellent teacher.

However, while those assessments were all accurate, they did not tell the true story of the man behind the… glasses. His story was intricate, hyperactive, and (dare he say it) important for future generations.

He was not always a huntsman, nor was he always an intellectual. During this time (which Oobleck would jokingly refer to as “The dark ages of his history”), he had done many things he was not proud of. One of these things resulted in the ability to discern at a glance the state of other people.

He could tell if someone was a warrior, author, singer, poet, philosopher, sailor, baker, banker, tanker, alcoholic, and any one of thousands of other types of person. Which is why when he saw the giant of a man striding across the lawn, cane gripped so tightly in his hands that his knuckles had turned white, he instantly knew that the man was out for vengeance.

The only question was where he had come from, where he was going, what he was taking revenge for or whomst it was upon, what had spurned such anger… maybe it was more than one question, actually. Instantly - for no one could say that Doctor Bartholomew Ooblock was slow - the green-haired professor was next to the man, who, to his credit, didn’t even flinch.

“Excuse me, good sir!” Oobleck’s voice boomed out, filling the courtyard. “Might I inquire as to where you are going on such a fine evening?”

The man’s head turned to study the good Doctor, sightless eyes empty and cold. Pebbles on the ground trembled as the man unconsciously let off power.

“I am going to have a chat with the esteemed headmaster, and discuss some choices he has made that involve the well-being of other sentient beings,” the giant ground out. “I hope you are not foolish enough to attempt to impede me.”

A shiver raced down Oobleck’s spine as the image of the blind man in purple was replaced with a snarling tiger.

“I wouldn’t deny someone the chance to discuss things civilly with another person, but, if it’s not too intrusive, may I ask what prompted this need for discussion? I find that oftentimes, a third party’s perspective may provide valuable insight to the subjects being discussed,” Oobleck returned, nearly tying the world record for most words spoken in ten seconds, ignoring the way his palms had become sweaty.

The large man snorted, before slowing to a standstill. “That question is one better suited to the headmaster. I do not know all of the details of the situation, so I cannot speak on his logic. However, that is what I intend to go find out,” he said, relaxing his grip on the cane slightly. The pebbles on the ground stopped shaking.

“An excellent train of thought, one that I find resonates with myself very well! Are you a professor of some kind, my good man? Most would be less hesitant to state their opinion or attempt to garner support with an outside influence,” Oobleck was excited. Perhaps the man was a professor, an instructor perhaps? Was Ozpin attempting to bring the man on board? Glynda had mentioned that they would be having a visitor… 

“I have not been an instructor for a long time, however, I have taught many young minds in the past,” the taller man admitted, his grip now completely relaxed on his cane. The lines around his eyes became soft once more as he calmed himself. “I thank you, however. This discussion has provided me with an opportunity to calm myself. Had you not, I may have acted in a way I might regret,” he sounded… ashamed.

“It happens to the best of us, my good sir! At least we can be thankful that I intervened when I did, otherwise, you may have done something that you wouldn’t normally. We should be working towards unity, which you have just now taken steps to achieving!” the Doctor exclaimed. “Well done, well done! I applaud you for your foresight and emotional control,” Oobleck said, actually giving the man a round of applause. It only lasted for two seconds, but he managed to fit over twenty claps in there!

Hmf-ing in amusement, the man turned to fully face the Doctor, extending his hand.

“Thank you for your assistance, then. I am Issho Ramierez. May I have your name, sir?”

“It is Oobleck, Doctor Bartholomew Ooblock, to be precise! It is excellent to meet another educator of young minds,” Oobleck exclaimed, giving the man enough vigorous handshakes that their arms turned to blurs for a few moments. “In any case, what brings you to Beacon?”

“Ozpin himself did. I will, however, refrain from speaking on the subject, as it’s rather personal,” Issho replied.

“Absolutely, my good man! In any case, now that you have calmed down suitably, might I inquire as to what you will be doing?” This was the Critical Mass, the time when Ramierez would have to decide on his path for the future. Perhaps not so dramatic, but it was a shatterpoint. 

And with a breath, Issho spoke the words that caused the shatterpoint to collapse.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Soft music filled the hall, while teens swayed (mostly) in time with the beat.

Punch was distributed, laughs were had, and joy was present in all corners of the room.

Except one. For three partygoers, the festivities were an opportunity to enact their ploy. Smiling at one another, they slowly stopped dancing, before maneuvering themselves to surround their prey.

Unaware, the hunted danced on, lost in the eyes of their dance partner.

With a single hand motion, that all came to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello all! To everyone new, welcome! To you returning readers, welcome back! Thank you all for your continued support! Thank you all SO SO much for your support! We’re past a hundred and fifty favorites, and beyond two hundred follows! You all are incredible!
> 
> UPDATE INFORMATION: Today I am departing for College, and am unsure if I will be able to continue with my once-per-week updates. I will be posting information as it becomes available to my Discord, the link to which is at the top of most chapters. Thank you all for your support and consideration.
> 
> I’m sorry that this chapter is a bit boring, but I’ve had some bad writer’s block due to the approach of College; I originally wanted this chapter to cover the first half of the Vytal Festival Dance, but that will have to be delayed for now. Thank you all for sticking with me, I understand these last two chapters have been sub-standard. The dialogue in this isn’t my best work, especially with how Issho began to mirror Oobleck’s speech patterns and eloquence. I suppose it could make sense canonically, but it just feels wrong.
> 
> Does anyone have any ideas on what is happening in this chapter’s preview? Let me know in reviews, PMs, or Discord!
> 
> References!   
> The line “He pitied the fool that tried to screw over Glynda Goodwitch” is a reference to Rocky III (1982), when Mr. T (playing Clubber Lang) said the same line, “I don’t hate Balboa, but I pity the fool.”  
> The line “Curiouser and curiouser…” is a reference to Alice in Wonderland (1865), when Alice cries the same line, forgetting momentarily how to speak proper english.  
> The line “You’ve seen nothing once, you’ve seen it a thousand times” is a reference to Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005), when Toph says the same line in response to Katara saying “Isn’t it beautiful?” referencing the view in front of their group.   
> The line “They did not tell the true story of the man behind the… glasses” is a reference to the popular horror franchise, Five Nights At Freddy’s, where the “Purple Guy” is regularly referenced as “The man behind the slaughter”  
> “The Good Doctor” is a reference to a television show of the same name, primarily acted by Freddie Highmore.  
> “This was the Critical Mass” is a reference to the game, Critical Annihilation (2016), which was released in Alpha as Critical Mass. One of the best soundtracks of all time for a game, by the way. The most recognizable is at the top of my Songs listened to while writing list.  
> “It was a shatterpoint” is a reference to the unique ability held by Jedi Master Mace Windu, from the prequel Star Wars series, starting with Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999)
> 
> If anyone has any suggestions for the future of the story, please don’t hesitate to contact me via PM, Discord Message, or review. Any future conflicts, meetings, encounters, fight scenes, or references, let me know and if it’s plausible and I feel it fits with the story I’ll try and write it in.
> 
> Also, please let me know if there are any grammatical errors, continuity issues, or debased sentences anywhere in the story.
> 
> As always, if the story is to your liking, consider dropping a favourite, or follow if you want to be updated when anything changes with the story. Thank you for reading! See you all next week!
> 
> Songs listened to while writing:  
> “Haunted” by Shirk  
> “Electrified” by TheFatRat  
> “The Calling” by TheFatRat ft. Laura Brehm  
> “Stronger” by TheFatRat, Slaydit, and Anjulie  
> “We’ll Meet Again” by TheFatRat and Laura Brehm  
> “Young and Restless” by SIAMES  
> “Dancing in the Moonlight (Johnny Lectro Remix)” by KingHarvest  
> “No No No” by TheFatRat  
> “I Need A Hero” by Bonnie Tyler
> 
> and FaceTiming my Co-Author


	8. Chapter 7 - The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has a Discord! (discord (dot) gg (slash) HTmGeTj) Thanks, AO3, for not publishing the full link. That’s just fantastic.
> 
> REGARDING THE DISCORD:  
> The Discord is my primary form of communication, especially regarding scheduling and delays.  
> I will also be running polls regarding the future of this story, other stories, and what should happen in each story individually.  
> There are also channels for story suggestions, song suggestions, and fanart!  
> Please join the Discord if you want to be kept up-to-date on scheduling and story info. Thanks for reading this notification!
> 
> A/N at end of chapter

Emerald Sustrai was not a woman that was afraid of many things. She was an assassin trained by a (mostly)-Maiden, the hand of Salem, Queen of the Grimm. Emerald could feign emotions, seduce, fight, or pretend as required, and would do anything for her Mistress. A highly skilled assassin, she had killed, tortured, extorted, blackmailed, and threatened more people than she could count.

However, being afraid of few things did not mean she was without fear. There were still things that chilled her to her bones, despite everything she had seen and been through. Among those was a domineering nickname, one that her partner (not that she chose him, naturally) had come up with. While normally Emerald would be quick to disregard whatever he said, in this one very specific case, his nickname for the giant in purple was accurate. 

Andre

While not exceptionally creative, it couldn’t be denied that the man was the same height as an Ursa; imagine the back pain in his puberty! In any case, Andre had quickly made his way towards the top of The List of Things That Emerald Sustrai Was Afraid Of™. He wasn’t quite number one, however.

So when Emerald rounded a corner, intent on finding where Mercury had disappeared to, she naturally froze in her tracks when she saw Andre stalking across the main quad.

With a noise that was decidedly not a yelp, Emerald stopped in her tracks and spun herself back behind the corner, splaying herself flat against the wall.

“What the hell are you doing, Em?” Came the last voice she wanted to hear at the moment. Snapping her head over to look at the smug bastard, she hissed as she saw the grey-haired male striding towards the main quad.

“Mercury,” her displeasure was evident in her voice. “If I were you, I’d not go out there. Not till he leaves.”

“What are you talking about, Em?” Mercury replied. “Actually, who are you talking about?”

“That guy from the book store, he’s here! We’ve got to get out of here; I don’t want to get mixed up with him, plus, Cinder will want to know,” Emerald explained, pushing herself off the wall and lowering her arms from the raised position they were in before. 

“You mean Andre? What the fuck is he doing here of all places?” Mercury wondered aloud.

“I don’t know, you wanna go up and ask him? I’ll make sure to do something proper with your corpse, like feed it to a Nevermore,” Emerald responded, eyes gleaming.

“Yeah, no thanks. How could I deprive the world of my amazingness? The Nevermore daren’t touch me, in fear of ruining my perfection,” Mercury grandly stated, one hand coming to rest over his heart, the other raising up in a motion towards the sun.

“Spare me,” Emerald replied

“You’re no fun,” Mercury responded with a pout, lowering his arms. “Anyways, Cinder would want to know.”

Just as he spoke, they both froze as the air became heavy, charged with power. Both assassins stiffened, remembering the last time they had felt this power; it was not a pleasant memory for either.

Similar thoughts raced through their minds.

“How did he know we were here?”

But, just as quickly as it arrived, it disappeared, fading into nothingness like a spectre.

“What the hell just happened?” Mercury asked, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care to find out,” Emerald responded, turning to stride away.

Mercury stared at her retreating back, shaking his head at her retreating figure and childishly sticking out his tongue. Glancing one last time at the corner Emerald had rounded, he strode away, following his annoying partner.

This was a conversation that poor, poor dorm room 223 might not survive.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Medea Dyre had just returned from her class with Professor Greene, head of Stealth and Security. Her piercing blue eyes eyed her dorm room door from behind her sunglasses as she pulled out her key, brushing her short brown hair behind her ear. Her team, consisting of herself (the awesome leader), her partner Urania Hagen, and the dynamic duo of Giselle Pico and Trinity Gunnar, followed her, and was a team based around stealth and assassination. As a third-year team, they had been sent abroad, into the Badlands, and had combat experience against humans. 

Medea was a very talented close-range fighter, hardened by her years of fighting threats to humanity. She had single-handedly brought down a smuggling ring with her team, fought an Elder Grimm when she took a trip into the Badlands with Professor Oobleck, and slaughtered thousands of Grimm.

So she was worried when she noticed that the floor of her dorm room (Number 323, Giselle’s lucky number) was steaming. What was happening? A piping overheat? Her heater breaking down? That blonde freshman losing control because someone plucked a single strand of her absurdly long hair? (Stupid of her, really.)

“What the hap is fuckening?” Trinity asked from behind her. Curse her stupid and constant referencing of things Medea didn’t understand!

“I don’t know,” Medea responded with a strange look towards Trinity. “I guess we should check out the room below ours?”

“I’d think so,” Urania responded. “My first thought was ‘Fire’ but there’s no smoke, just steam.”

“I guess so, maybe a freshie set themselves on fire?” Giselle snickered, mouth hidden behind her long sleeves held in front of her face. “Let’s go check. Trinity, get that scroll ready for pictures!”

“Yeah, okay,” Trinity responded. With a flourish, the near six-foot tall, muscular woman capable of crushing an Ursa’s skull bare-handed pulled out a scroll covered with enough glitter and pink ribbons to make a blind man cringe.

With a simultaneous “GAH!” from Urania and Medea as they covered their eyes to protect their vision, the team headed for the stairwell. Giselle simply continued snickering.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Back with our resident Psychopaths, Emerald and Mercury were sweating profusely. Not due to nerves or anxiety, but more because their dorm room was nearing a hundred and twenty-five degrees, courtesy of their resident space heater, eye candy, and dangerous murderer.

“Repeat that, Emerald,” Cinder’s voice rang out. Completely at odds with the state of the room (and Mercury’s homework for Port! It was about to go up in flames!) her voice was calm, cool, and collected like a kumquat.

“I… I said that I saw the man f-from Tukson’s here, talking with Oobleck, ma’am,” Emerald stuttered out, sweat beginning to pour down her face.

While normally, Mercury would have taken the opportunity to taunt her, the grey-haired teen felt it would be in his best interest to remain quiet for now.

“Why is he here? Correct me if I’m wrong,” Not that either teen would correct their boss, not if they wanted to live, “But did you not assure me that the man wasn’t a huntsman?” Cinder snarled, the flames in her eyes burning bright.

“I did, ma’am!” Emerald squeaked, trembling. “But I searched through every database I could find, and the man isn’t registered as a Huntsman; he never even attended a combat academy!”

Just as Cinder opened her mouth to set a withering reply upon her subordinate, a knock echoed throughout the oven-like room.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?” Came through the door, muffled by the thick wood.

Both Emerald and Mercury spun, facing the door, while Cinder did her best to glare away the person intruding on her dressing-down of her foolish subordinates.

“Yes?” Cinder called, her voice pleasant while her face promised pain to the next person to get in her way.

“Oh, hi!” Came the reply. “I just wanted to check in, because our dorm room is above yours, and our floor is steaming. Was wondering if you all were okay, cause it’s not a plumbing or heater issue.”

“Yes, everything is fine,” Cinder replied, her voice still masking the fury on her face. “One of my teammates simply let their Semblance slip a bit.”

A slight pause followed that statement, likely processing how someone accidentally used their semblance. “Oh, okay! Just wanted to make sure there wasn’t a fire or anything! Have a great day!” the voice said, sounding a bit bewildered.

“You as well,” Cinder replied, forcefully restraining her power. Both Emerald and Mercury gasped slightly, too softly for their boss to hear, revelling in the rapidly-cooling room.

Just as they turned back to face their boss, they heard a loud *pop* before the Air Conditioning unit on the back wall began smoking, a few sparks dropping from the overworked machine.

With a muttered curse, Cinder stood from where she sat on her bed, striding over to the window and flinging it open.

“Just one more thing gone wrong,” she whispered, hunching over the sill and breathing the fresh air deeply.

She turned back towards her subordinates, staring deep into their eyes one after the other.

“Emerald,” she said, short and cross.

“Yes ma’am!” Emerald responded, straightening under her gaze.

“You will ask around and find out everything about that man. I will not have an unknown variable around Beacon while our plans are being carried out,” Cinder stated, giving Emerald a withering look.

“As for you,” Cinder continued, turning to Mercury. He immediately stopped slouching, much to Emerald’s amusement. “You will be mingling with the upperclassmen and probing for details.”

“Will do,” was her reply, bored expression residing on Mercury’s face. His posture, however, told a different story.

“See to it that you uncover information about this man, else I may be… displeased,” the False Maiden hissed, allowing one hand to come to rest on each of her subordinate’s cheeks. Both froze, then gasped as the hands became uncomfortably warm.

Her hands lingered for but a moment, before moving the searing heat away and returning to her perch on her bed.

“You have your assignments. Now go,” Cinder said, turning her attention to her scroll.

“Yes ma’am!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Professor Ozpin was annoyed. While this wasn’t an unusual occurrence, it was the means that caused this disturbance in this instance that irritated him greatly.

He had a headache, one hand massaging his closed eyes, the other gripping his desk with enough force to cause the weathered Mahogany to creak ominously.

“Would you care to explain why, exactly, you two thought it would be a good idea to play catch with a vial of Fire Dust while standing in a dust storage area?” Ozpin sighed, relaxing his grip on his desk as he caught Glynda pinning him with a glare. 

The two boys (because of course it was pubescent teens endangering the lives of his students) in front of him shrunk backwards into their chairs, trying to hide from Ozpin’s piercing gaze.

Both were transfers from Haven, and Beacon had only received three teams from that specific academy. Leonardo had assured him that the students he had selected to visit were “Exemplary in every aspect!”

What a load of Ursa dung.

The one on the left (and Ozpin couldn’t be bothered to learn their names) spoke up then.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time?” he squeaked, shrinking even more as Glynda leveled a positively evil glare towards the boy.

“How, exactly, did it seem like a good idea?” Glynda spat, her Aura crackling threateningly.

Both boys froze in their fidgeting, like deer in headlights as the demon that was Glynda Goodwitch loomed over them.

“We thought-” the second boy started, only to be cut off by the Deputy Headmistress.

“No, you didn’t! You didn’t think, Mr. Wesson! If you had, then you would not have endangered the lives of approximately three hundred students and staff,” she scolded, cracking her riding crop threateningly.

“I-I’m sorry?” The first boy whimpered out, unsure of how to handle the situation.

“That is not enough, Mr. Smith! A simple apology will not suffice for endangering the lives of your peers!” The not-so-good-witch reprimanded, eyes narrowing and heels clicking as she strode to stand slightly behind and to the side of her boss.

“Headmaster, I would recommend sending these teams home, or at least requiring them to find housing off-campus. Their blatant disregard for one of the most basic rules of Dust safety has jeopardized the lives of those on campus, and no amount of apologizing will fix that,” Glynda said.

Ozpin removed his hands from his desk and face, lacing his fingers together in front of his mouth as he leaned towards the wayward students.

“Gentlemen, while I do agree with my Deputy on this matter, I will need to make a few calls before taking action. You are dismissed for now, however,” he stressed the word, drawing it out slightly. “You are forbidden from handling Dust without supervision from a staff member, and until further notice, will be spending your free time helping with menial tasks around campus. Good day,” Ozpin said, gesturing towards the elevator.

“I trust you can find your way out of my office?” He inquired, dry as could be.

“Yes sir…” both replied, downcast and reproachful.

With what Glynda would likely deny was a snort, she walked around Ozpin’s desk and motioned at the two boys to stand and stride towards the elevator.

“I suppose I shall leave you to your duties, then, Headmaster. I shall deal with these two while you deal with your own obligations,” Ozpin’s Deputy said, ushering the boys into the elevator.

“Thank you, and good evening to all of you,” Ozpin replied, addressing all three before the doors closed. Just as the elevator slid shut, his head snapped to the window as he felt sheer, unadulterated power flow out from the courtyard. Frowning as he snatched The Long Memory from his desk and running to the window, he peered out as he located the source with his own senses.

What he saw shocked him. Ramierez was standing, conversing with Bartholomew, his power wrapping him like a cloak. Ozpin immediately pushed his Aura towards his ears, straining to hear what was going on in the courtyard below. Unfortunately, the wind was so strong that he could only catch snippets of conversation, and, short of jumping down to the grass, he had no way down as Glynda was using the Elevator.

“suited to… headmaster…” came floating up, barely audible over the whistling wind.

“intend… find out.” Issho said.

“Find out? Find out what? And what does it have to do with me?” Ozpin thought, furiously wracking his brain for anything he might have done that would elicit such a response from the blind giant.

Thinking quickly, Ozpin decided to ignore the conversation for now and see if Ramierez was the source of power he had sensed previously in Vale.

Delving deep into his own consciousness, Ozpin staggered as the visual and physical representation of pure power flooded his mind. The world around him became muted, the colours darker and less varied, and the sky seemed to dim; as though he was trapped deep underwater. The power around him shook and rippled as though the owner was struggling to contain it.

Then the pressure set in, and Ozpin struggled for breath. The darkness surrounding him was overwhelming, as though he was standing before Salem herself. Acclimatizing himself to the power, he snapped out of his trance when the power epicenter (which he now knew was Ramierez) started moving towards the elevator, the ripples vibrating through it previously now smoothed out.

The world regained its colour, and the pressure eased as Ozpin shut himself away once more from the world of sensing. Wiping the sweat from where it had condensed on his brow, Ozpin forced his clenched muscles to relax.

Re-settling himself behind his desk, Ozpin calmed himself, allowing his expression to settle into something (hopefully) open, relaxed, and friendly. No need to make the man suspicious. Ozpin then mentally berated himself for schooling his expression. The man was blind, for Brothers’ sake!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Issho forced himself to remain calm. Admirals already had a reputation (mainly perpetuated by Akainu) of being hot headed and brash. Never mind the fact that it was only Akainu that did such things…

In any case, Issho would not act out until he had heard the entirety of Ozpin’s story. But if the man was the one who had caused that soul downstairs to become so fractured, there would be hell to pay.

It was with this thought in mind that Issho strode into Ozpin’s office, face cold and hard, like chiseled stone. His hands were open, but tense, and his geta clacked against the floor with just a bit too much force. Issho felt Ozpin - seated behind his desk - lean forwards, resting his arms on his desk.

“Ah, Mr. Ramierez! Good evening! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Please, have a seat,” Ozpin said, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk.

Issho strode to the chair, then sat, muscles still and tense. With a piercing gaze, the Admiral’s sighless eyes bored deep into Ozpin’s.

“Headmaster,” Issho growled, the bass in his voice making apparent the experience he had in ordering thousands of soldiers. “Spare me the pleasantries for now,” his voice filled the room, whispering into every corner.

“Oh? Have I done something to earn your ire, Mr. Ramierez?” Ozpin asked, carefully keeping his tone inquisitive and non-hostile.

“That remains to be seen, Ozpin,” Issho rumbled, the cane in his grip creaking with the force of his grip. “It depends upon your answer to a question I must ask.”

Ozpin’s eyes widened slightly behind his glasses at the pure venom held in the other man’s voice. “Well then, Mr. Ramierez, I encourage you to ask away. I am quite sure I may assuage any worries that you may hold,” Ozpin said, resting his hands lightly on the end of his own cane.

“I would hope you have an explanation for this, indeed,” Issho’s voice growled out, akin once more to a tiger snarling at prey. His voice rose with every word, until he was nearly shouting at the end of his sentence. 

“Please, do explain why you have a fractured soul in your basement!”

And Ozpin’s eyes snapped wide, his power unconsciously rising to the surface and filling the room, warring with the weight of Issho’s own.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Hey, Yang?”

“Yeah, Rubes?”

“Did it get harder for you to breathe all of a sudden?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“What the hell just happened?”

“Oum, it feels like a Goliath just sat on my chest!”

“Not much of a chest there anyways, eh, Giselle?”

“Medea, I will slaughter you! And I’ll make it look like a bloody accident, too!”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Ma’am!”

“What, Emerald?”

“Ozpin is doing something!”

“I know that, or did you think I couldn’t feel it in the air?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Oum above!”

“So you feel it as well, Bart?”

“Indeed, Peter. The last time I felt such power was when…”

“When… what?”

“When Ozpin got angry.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Winter!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Prepare my Bullhead to head to Beacon, immediately.”

“At once, sir!”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Man, I feel like throwing up.”

“Sure it’s not the Whiskey?”

“It’ll take more than this piss-water to get me drunk”

“Yeah, sure. What was it that your nieces call you again? Drunkle Qrow?”

“Don’t make me hit you.”

“I don’t know if you’re even seeing straight enough to land a shot.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d rather not, actually.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“What the hell is happening?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“Guess it’s something on my end, then.”

“Whatever, just have my order by Thursday.”

“Yeah, will do, as soon as I can breathe regularly again.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

In the Secret Chamber

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Inside the machine, the wounded Maiden stirred. Her eyes twitched under pale lids, her power stirring under her skin in response to it’s progenitor’s power.

Out into the darkness, a light shone, bright as daylight, from the centre of her chest.

And for a brief second, her eyes snapped open, eyes roaming, before slamming shut with just as much force, the light dying as she fell once more into a deep sleep.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ozpin’s Office

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“What?” Ozpin whispered, tightening his hold on The Long Memory to the point that the handle screamed, tensing his muscles and preparing to fight with the man in front of him.

“How did he know?” raced through his head. “An Agent of Salem?”

“Do not play games with me, Ozpin,” Issho whispered back, matching Ozpin’s volume, visibly struggling to restrain himself. “I am not in the mood for deception or distractions, nor will I repeat myself.”

“No, I heard you,” Ozpin replied, still eyeing his options in the room around him.

“Start with a flank, and strike towards his legs, forcing a block,” Ozpin thought, continuing the conversation while other thoughts raced through his mind.

“I was simply surprised, is all. After all, I don’t know how you would have found out about Amber,” Ozpin said, warring with his surprise.

“He’ll block, leaving himself open for a strike to the shoulder”

“That is irrelevant. What is relevant is my question. Why is there a fractured soul below us?” Issho’s voice slowly grew louder towards the end of his sentence.

“Tell me, Mister Ramierez, who told you about Amber? Was it your mistress?” Ozpin returned, thoughts still racing.

“He’ll have to dodge left, allowing me a slash at the throat.”

“I serve no one but myself. Not anymore. I felt her soul when wandering your grounds. Now answer the question.” Issho spat, the delicate glass sculpture in the corner shattering under its own weight, the visage of the two Brothers reduced to naught but shards.

Ozpin’s deak creaked, a single sliver of wood flying from the side, propelled by the strain the desk was subjected to.

“How did you sense her?” Ozpin demanded, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

“Answer. The. Question. Should you have a suitable excuse, you will find what you seek about me,” Ramierez responded, a single large hand crushing the armrest of his chair.

“Very well, Mister Ramierez. I suppose that if you were serving her, she would have told you already,” Ozpin mused, deciding to take a gamble. “Tell me, are you familiar with the tale of the Maidens?”

A flat glare greeted him.

“I can’t say I am,” Issho’s sarcastic retort was quickly forthcoming. “What does that have to do with-”

“Trust me, Mister Ramierez. It has everything to do with what happened to young Amber,” Ozpin responded. “Now, calm yourself and we may discuss this like civilized men. Would you care for a drink while you are here?”

Issho snorted. “As though what happened to her was civilized. Fine, Ozpin. I will play your game,” He snarled, drawing his power back under a tight leash, unable to be felt from the outside.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Ozpin replied, restraining his own power as well.

“Oh, and Ozpin?” Issho said, grinning slyly, threateningly.

“Yes?” Ozpin asked, feeling a single bead of sweat on his temple.

“Coffee will do fine.”

A soft sigh filled the office as Ozpin moved to fulfill his… guest’s… request.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

One Hour Later

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“-and so she is now in stasis, to preserve her life. Until we can find the person who stole her power, we cannot move her or take her out, not if we want her to live,” Ozpin concluded, voice slightly hoarse from explaining and answering questions. He had conveniently left out the truth about Salem, Himself, and the origin of the Maidens. He had instead phrased it so it sounded as though he had no knowledge of how they came to be.

“And how goes your search for the thief?” Issho responded, now fairly calm.

“As well as could be expected for chasing someone capable of taking on one of the most powerful people on the planet and escaping. We don’t know where they are, or what they’re planning,” Ozpin sighed. “All we do know is that they are in possession of half of a Maiden’s power.”

“Not as though Salem would stop at just that,” Ozpin thought drily.

“Not a lot to go off of then. Is there anyone Amber had antagonized or anything similar that may have led to a need for revenge?” Issho wondered.

“Doubtful. Amber didn’t interact with people much, and it isn’t as though she was a bad person in the first place. I highly doubt she would have given someone a reason to do something like this,” the Headmaster replied.

“Then I suppose we must simply wait and see. In any case-”

The two powerhouses tensed as the Elevator ding-ed open, admitting one General James Ironwood to Ozpin’s office, the white half of his weapon, Due Process, in hand. While the revolver was lowered at the moment, Ozpin had no delusions that if something were to happen, it would be posed to fire faster than he could blink.

“Ah, James! How are you?” Ozpin pleasantly inquired, taking a pointed sip of Hot Chocolate. “What brings you to Beacon? I was under the assumption you were working on security for the upcoming Vytal Festival, has that changed?”

“I am well, though I must wonder if you feel the same, Ozpin. And yes, despite your best efforts, I am still in charge of security,” Ironwood responded, giving a careful once-over to the room, noting the shattered glass statue in the corner.

“What makes you say that?” Ozpin asked, genuinely confused.

“Don’t play the part of a fool, Ozpin. The whole of Beacon and a large part of Vale felt you flaunting your power. What happened? Was it… whoever this is?” Ironwood responded, giving a skeptical look to the giant seated across from Ozpin.

“I do have a name, you know,” Issho interjected mildly.

“Ah yes, where are my manners? Ironwood, this is a fairly new acquaintance of mine, Issho Ramierez. Issho, this is an old friend of mine, James Ironwood. He is, as I’m sure you may know, the General for Atlas’s military and head of Atlas Academy,” Ozpin said, tapping a closed fist into the palm of his other hand.

“A pleasure,” Issho said, turning his chair ninety degrees to the left, allowing his head to swivel and point towards the general.

“Likewise,” James responded, extending his hand for a shake towards Ramierez. 

Without pause or hesitation, Ramierez clasped the proffered limb, not aware of the strange look levelled at him by Ironwood.

“So, what was that about, Ozpin?” James asked, dropping Issho’s hand.

“Ah. Well, do you mind, Mister Ramierez?” Ozpin asked Issho, offering an olive branch to the man.

“Not at all. I am glad that your employee managed to talk me down, though, else I may have done something I regret,” Ramierez responded, sounding slightly remorseful at his lack of self-control. Not that Ozpin blamed him, not at all. He would likely have done something similar in Ramierez’s position.

“Well then, James, what you felt was the fallout of a… misunderstanding, if you will, between myself and Mister Ramierez. After explaining exactly what the situation was, and how it came to be, we have reconciled our differences,” Ozpin explained, reclining in his chair and gesturing for Ironwood to take a seat next to Issho.

As James spoke, he moved to sit, holstering Due Process as he did.

“And what was this so-called misunderstanding about?” Ironwood asked. His voice was full of skepticism. He knew that there were very few things that could make Ozpin lose control of his power like that. All of them had something to do with Salem or her minions.

“About the condition of our mutual friend below us,” Ozpin said, mild and casual.

And just like that, Ironwood’s relaxation disappeared, his right hand automatically reaching for Due Process, head turning towards the person sitting next to him.

Just as suddenly, he froze, remembering exactly who was present; Ozpin, the most powerful person James had ever met, and this new man, Issho, who was apparently capable of going toe-to-toe with the same person.

Sighing, he forced his muscles to relax, withdrawing his hand (empty, of course) from inside his jacket.

“And why, exactly, did you inform him about our friend?” James sighed, massaging his temples.

“Because if I didn’t, I fear that my office may not have survived,” Ozpin’s wry reply was quick to form. “Calm yourself, James. I am sure that Mister Ramierez is on our side.”

With a hard glare at the unmoving man beside him, Ironwood sighed, signalling his cession. 

“While normally, I would press more, I am unfortunately occupied with managing the security for the Vytal Festival. I’ll defer to your judgement for now, but know that I’m not happy with it,” Ironwood grumbled, standing and moving towards the elevator. “I’ll see you at the Ball, I suppose.”

“Indeed you will,” Ozpin said. “Good evening, James.”

“Goodbye for now, Oz. You as well, Ramierez,” Ironwood responded.

“Have a good night,” Issho responded.

With a ding, the Elevator doors slid open, and with one final backwards look, Ironwood disappeared behind cold steel.

“In any case, Mister Ramierez, will you be attending the Vytal Festival Ball? I am assured by Team RWBY - or rather, one specific member - that the ball will be splendid,” Ozpin inquired. “The ball will take place in two days, and if you only want to drop in for an hour or so, you would be a welcome distraction.”

“I believe I may do so. Thank you for the invitation, however, I will have to find some formal clothes capable of fitting me in the next day,” Issho responded, glancing sightlessly down at his clothes. “Now that I think about it, I may just have to get a few new outfits while I’m out.”

“That would seem to be a good idea,” Ozpin replied with a chuckle. “I shall see you soon, then,”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Vytal Festival Ball

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Beacon was completely decked out for the Vytal Festival Ball. The lights were low, but not dim. Soft music filled the hall, while teens swayed (mostly) in time with the beat.

Punch was distributed, laughs were had, and joy was present in all corners of the room.

Except one. For three partygoers, the festivities were an opportunity to enact their ploy. Smiling at one another, they slowly stopped dancing, before maneuvering themselves to surround their prey.

Unaware, the hunted danced on, lost in the eyes of their dance partner.

With a single hand motion, that all came to an end.

Instantly, all three moved forwards, leaping towards their target, intent on completing their mission.

“Argh! What?!” Was all the target got out, before the three hit their mark.

“No!” the dance partner got out, before being swallowed in the mob of dancers.

Lifting him up high, the three spirited him across the room, quick as a flash, before setting him down. One jumped on his back.

“Ohhhhh Jauneyyy!” Nora Valkyrie cried, hanging off of his back like some sort of demeted Koala Bear.

“Nora? What are you doing? And why did you drag Ruby and Yang into it?” Jaune asked, confused.

“Why, Jauney, I didn’t know that you thought so low of me! This wasn’t my idea!” Nora pouted.

“What?” Jaune was bewildered.

“This was all my idea,” Yang Xiao-Long replied, smirk adorning her face as she pulled Ruby into her side. “The only one dragged into this was Ruby.”

“Sorry, Jaune,” Ruby’s apology was meek.

“What’s this all about, actually?” Jaune asked. “Why’d you basically kidnap me from Pyrrha?”

“Simple, Jaune. I needed you away from Pyrrha, and Oum knows how hard it would have been if we had left you two alone, to ask you a simple question,” Yang replied, releasing her struggling sister and leaning close to the second blonde in a dress.

“What’s that?” Jaune replied, leaning away from Yang.

“When are you gonna ask Pyrrha out?”

“What?!” Jaune shrieked.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

While Yang grilled the poor leader of JNPR, Ruby’s eye caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Straining her eyes into the darkness, she made out a figure in the night, moving away from the festivities.

Seeing that her sister and Nora were occupied with Jaune, she decided to pursue the figure.

As it approached the CCTS Tower, she realized that going in without backup may not have been the best idea. When she suddenly came under fire, that feeling was only reinforced.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Ruby!” Blake yelled, reaching a hand out towards her falling leader.

With wide, panicked silver eyes, Ruby Rose fell into the darkness.

Blake Belladonna immediately turned and ran, intent on finding help. She wouldn’t let herself lose another friend. She had precious few enough as it was.

“Wait for me, Ruby,” she whispered to herself as she ran. “I’m coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello all! To everyone new, welcome! To you returning readers, welcome back! Thank you all for your continued support!
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me through my week of non-writing, moving into and acclimatizing to College. Thank you all for your understanding!
> 
> References!  
> The line “What the hap is fuckening” is a reference to the popular meme of a crab (I think it’s a crab? Some sort of shellfish) with the same line in top and bottom text  
> The line “Calm, cool, and collected like a kumquat” is a reference to the saying “Cool as a cucumber”  
> Mercury and Emerald’s nickname for Issho, Andre, is a reference to Andre the Giant, a fantastic actor and one of my favorite people of all time! Rest in Peace, Andre!  
> The students being scolded by Goodwitch and Ozpin is named after Smith and Wesson, the gun manufacturers  
> “and I’ll make it look like a bloody accident, too!” is a reference to an iconic scene from the live-action “The Cat in the Hat” (2003), and a scene where the said cat in said hat says “I’ll get you, and I’ll make it look like a bloody accident, too!”
> 
> Reader Interaction Time!  
> Can anyone tell me what type of creature the original “What the hap is fuckening” picture is? I’m genuinely curious!  
> Also, has anyone actually eaten a Kumquat? What do they taste like? And why are they shaped like a Kiwi, coloured Orange like an… Orange, but the inside is shaped like a Grapefruit? Was Evolution on Cocaine when this happened? Tripping on Acid maybe?  
> Does anyone know who Qrow was talking with? Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> If anyone has any suggestions for the future of the story, please don’t hesitate to contact me via PM, Discord Message, or review. Any future conflicts, meetings, encounters, fight scenes, or references, let me know and if it’s plausible and I feel it fits with the story I’ll try and write it in.
> 
> Also, please let me know if there are any grammatical errors, continuity issues, or debased sentences anywhere in the story.
> 
> As always, if the story is to your liking, consider dropping a favourite, or follow if you want to be updated when anything changes with the story. Thank you for reading! See you all next week!
> 
> Songs listened to while writing:  
> “This Girl” by Kungs vs Cookin’ on 3 Burners  
> “Electrified” by TheFatRat  
> “Do Be Do Be Do” by TheFatRat  
> “Dancing in the Moonlight (Johnny Lectro Remix)” by King Harvest  
> “Running in the 90’s” by Maurizio De Jorio  
> “End of the Decade” by TheFatRat - contains:  
> “Stronger” with Slaydit and Anjulie  
> “Less Than Three”  
> “Time Lapse”  
> “Fly Away” with Anjulie  
> “Origin Reprise”  
> “Close to the Sun” with Anjulie  
> “Chosen” with Anna Yvette and Laura Brehm  
> “Infinite Power”  
> “Unity”  
> “Monody” with Laura Brehm  
> “Windfall”  
> “Jackpot”  
> “Telescope”  
> “Solitude” with Slaydit  
> “Elegy”  
> “Prelude” (VIP Edit) with JJD  
> “Dancing Naked”  
> “Envelope” (VIP Edit)  
> “Mayday” with Laura Brehm  
> “Warrior Song” with Stasia Estep  
> “Xenogenesis”  
> “Rise Up” (Orchestral Edit)  
> “The Calling” with Laura Brehm  
> “Epic”  
> “Never Be Alone”  
> “Sweater Weather” by The Neighbourhood  
> “Please Don’t Go” by Joel Adams  
> “Stressed Out” by Twenty-One Pilots  
> “Tangerine” by Glass Animals  
> “7 Years” by Lukas Graham  
> “Warriors” by Imagine Dragons
> 
> and FaceTiming my Co-Author


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